


Shots Fired!

by FiccinDylan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (though oddly no one gets shot in this fic huh, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feral Derek Hale, Guns, Implied Mpreg, Kinda, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No Dubcon/Noncon, Police Officer Derek, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Sex Pollen, Smut, Werewolves Are Not Known, the sheriff's name is Sheriff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-18 11:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiccinDylan/pseuds/FiccinDylan
Summary: Stiles Stilinski takes his annual vacation for one week every year and this year is no exception.  Except for the fact that all types of weird supernatural shit has started popping off so close to the start date.  Which wouldn't be so strange except for the fact that supernatural shit and magic have been banned in Beacon County for decades.Oh shit!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ssleif](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssleif/gifts).



**_“ALL UNITS - 415 REPORTED - POSSIBLE 211 IN PROGRESS AT BEACON NATIONAL BANK. I REPEAT ALL AVAILABLE UNITS - POSSIBLE 211 IN PROGRESS - BEACON NATIONAL BANK - DOWNTOWN LOCATION.”_ **

Lieutenant Derek Hale crumples his burrito wrapper and shoves it into the small bin wedged inside the console between him and his de facto partner Sergeant Stiles Stilinski. Seemingly endless stakeouts and overly dramatic calls like these were definitely not the parts of his patrol that he missed before he got promoted.

Stiles grabs his radio and starts the car in a practiced and familiar move.

“Copy, dispatch. Unit 9 en route, over.” He turns on his siren and peels out of the familiar parking space in the Dollar Taco lot.

Derek motions for the radio as Tara’s voice confirms, “ _Copy that, Unit 9. Looks like we got a 2-1-1-Sierra with an anonymous bystander reporting two men on the scene. Over._ ”

“Any weapons, Tara?” Derek asks casually. Stiles smirks, imagining the grimace most definitely gracing newly minted Corporal Tara Graeme’s face. She’d been a deputy for years and it was a big deal that she got promoted. When she could get away with it, she refused to answer to anything except Corporal Graeme. During calls she didn’t have the luxury of being so picky and she hated it.

“ _No weapons reported on the scene, detective._ ”

Stiles can’t help the snort as Derek’s face scrunches up. He’d made the impossible leap from Detective to Lieutenant in under a year and even though everyone on the force was proud of Derek, they loved to give him shit about it. He supposed he deserves it, but he can’t help but grimace at Tara’s little taunt.

“Uhh, thank you, _Corporal_ Graeme. Approaching the location now, we’ll report in when there’s more information. Over.”

“ _10-4, officers, stay safe. This feels like a weird one. Over._ ”

Normally they wouldn’t be so chatty over dispatch, but as they got closer to the location, the guys could feel it too. In fact, Stiles has felt off all week.

He’d chalked it up to having Derek tag along on his rides. His normal stakeout partner was Chief Deputy Scott McCall, but Scott was in training to run their K-9 unit. They’d been best friends for years and Scott went straight into the academy while Stiles went to school so he could become an officer right away. He was still fairly new to the squad and while he mostly got on with everyone, he couldn’t deny things were a little awkward.

It wasn’t overt. He never felt like Derek resented him for coming in outranking the detective who’d already put years in on the force. In fact, Derek was always kind and they worked damned well together. Even though the squad gave him shit about it, Stiles knew Derek deserved the promotion and he was happy Derek didn’t treat him any differently now that he outranked him.

Stiles respected the hell out of Derek, and it wasn’t hard since he was such a stand-up guy. Scott’s been out on training because his pregnant wife has been sick for a while. Derek tries to help out by filling in whenever he can, despite the fact that he’s never been a fan of patrols and was looking forward to more focused stakeouts and sting operations.

If Stiles really tried to pin down the issue - not that there really was one - it was that despite evidently growing up in the same town, and being only a few years apart at that, Stiles just didn’t _know_ Derek. He had no clue who he was before meeting him on the police force. Stiles wasn’t naive enough to think he should know everyone in Beacon Hills, but his dad was the former Sheriff. He’s been to all the events, and rubbed elbows with the city’s most influential people. Hell, he was even there when Mayor Peter Hale was put down and thrown into Eichen House.

Stiles couldn’t even connect Derek to _those_ Hales because there didn’t seem to be any real connection and Hale was a pretty common name around those parts. Stiles knew lots of Hales, but for Derek it seemed to be just him and his sister, Cora. Cora was the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department Office Manager and married to Lydia Martin-Hale who acted as a consultant to the squad. She used to officially be their medium, but underwent a rebranding ever since magic was outlawed in the county. Stiles remembered she’d convinced everyone that the only powers she possessed were those of observation and she definitely _wasn’t_ a banshee and a psychic. Though the way everyone she told would repeat it over and over made Stiles wonder.

Regardless, it was just weird to Stiles that he didn’t know Derek. Cora was homeschooled during high school so he remembers her mostly from middle school, but never remembers her family really. A mom, an older sister maybe? Nothing about a brother ever came to mind. He’d even thought Cora and her family moved away before he saw Cora on his first day in the office. She smiled at him… while flipping him off… and the two have been great friends ever since. Well, as friendly as Cora was with anyone.

And even _that_ wasn’t it. Stiles and Derek got along great. They had some converging interests so they could hold down a conversation late night stuck in a 24hr taco shop parking lot, waiting for _something_ to happen. Things were easy and they were easy together. Hell, Stiles could even have a crush on the guy if he ever thought it were remotely an option. There simply wasn’t a solid reason that Derek would be contributing to the feeling of strangeness that’d been plaguing Stiles all week, but it was the only lead he had, so he went with it. He hadn’t considered that the weirdness could be something outside of the situation, and Tara bringing it up made him realize it wasn’t just him.

“You alright, Sergeant? You’re eerily quiet; it’s a bit out of character and frankly a little bit terrifying.” Derek nudges Stiles who is clearly focusing on something else. “Thinking about your vacation?”

Stiles doesn’t startle, he just shrugs and shakes his head.

“Sorry, sir, it’s just… I just can’t shake this feeling of weirdness. Even Tara said something. The closer we get to this place the more off I feel. Like it’s warded, you know?”

“No Stiles, I don’t know and neither do you.” Derek says rotely. Stiles looks at him quickly as he continues to recite something that was no doubt lectured to him in the same manner. “Wards do not exist. Wards are created by magic and magic no longer exists within the Beacon County lines and all forms, variations and allusions to magic were discarded or destroyed or remain locked up in the Eichen House correctional facility along with master arbiter of the supernatural and former Mayor Peter Hale. So no, Stiles, I don’t know what you mean when you say it feels warded. I don’t know what wards are.”

Stiles’ knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. He guesses he can’t begrudge Derek’s mysteriousness, especially since he has so many secrets of his own.

“I just… I just meant _metaphorically-_ I didn’t mean that-”

“ _Metaphorically-_ ” Derek says, cutting off Stiles though not impolitely, “-yeah, something feels weird.” The lieutenant chances a small glance at Stiles as they pull up about a half block from the bank. They can see clearly inside of it and it appears to be business as usual _except..._ for the two men holding open large bags as patrons of the bank put money inside.

“What the fuck?” Stiles asks absently as he and Derek exit the car and start to make their way towards the bank.

Stiles habitually lays a protective hand on his piece as they get closer and Derek sidles up behind him. They find a hidden corner where they can remain unseen but still have a good vantage point of the inside of the bank. And it’s… _weird_.

“I just saw Mrs. Wilking last week, I helped her bake a pie…” Derek remembers as they watch the elderly woman wave a gun menacingly in a teller’s face. Mrs. Wilking yells at the lady and in an uncharacteristic move, she slaps the teller across the face. Derek winces.

“She has arthritis in that hand. That’s why I was helping her bake; she had problems mixing the fruit and rolling out the crust.” He says absently, watching her almost sadly. Were the situation different, Stiles might tease Derek for spending every other Saturday teaching a baking class at the senior center, but really Stiles found it very sweet. Plus, Derek brings left-overs for Stiles’ Sunday night shift and Stiles knows better than to mess up a good thing. The strawberry rhubarb was especially good. It tasted like magic.

“I’m telling you, Lieu, something weird is going on. Wait… is that…?” Stiles squints and shit, it is. Derek sees him at the same time.

“Mr. Gajos?” Derek says as the two watch the previously senile senior citizen move quickly in the lobby. Stiles nods. He’s called to the apartment complex Mr. Gajos lives in frequently and each time he’s pulled into a long discussion where Mr. Gajos swears Stiles is his grandson because, _‘some disappearing men told him so_ ’. Stiles found it a little sad, knowing the man was childless, but he was never creeped out, not until this night at least when he saw the same man competently counting money and organizing piles on a desk. He was spry where the old Mr. Gajos was frail with cloudy, wet eyes. His eyes were still cloudy, but they seemed keen, almost like he was both seeing and not seeing at the same time. Mr. Gajos moved at a snail’s pace, but this man - this imposter - moved with ease as he packed several duffle bags full of money.

Stiles feels a light grip on his elbow and notices he’s got his gun out and is in shooting stance. He shakes his head, nodding as he lowers his firearm.

“Thanks, Lieu, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Stilinski, this place… it’s off. Something is off. Let’s get closer and see if we can figure this out.”

They move slowly towards the entrance of the bank which is through the lobby of the Beacon Grand hotel, a landmark site that boasted a shopping mall alongside the hotel. It was put in as a tourist attraction after Peter Hale took office. Peter had a grimy, political side to him, but he did care about the town and its growth, almost like it was a birthright to him. Stiles doesn’t know why this thought came to him, or why he suddenly feels a sadness at the way things went down that day. There was a sense of dread in the discovery, perhaps a bit of residual guilt at the fact that Stiles’ own secret was left unearthed? Either way, he remembers feeling like a coward when he left town for school, and feeling like a betrayer when he returned three years later.

“What’s on your mind, Stilinski? Contemplative is a scary look on you, it can go either way at the drop of a dime.” Derek says, not unkindly, shaking Stiles from his reverie. Stiles sighs.

“It’s like they’re possessed.” He muses absently, though not casually enough for Derek’s liking.

“It’s just a robbery, Stiles.” Derek says with enough force to draw Stiles’ attention. Stiles stops when he can see the serious pleading in Derek’s green eyes. “It’s routine, don’t overthink it. We’re cops. Identify the hostages, secure them and stop the bad guys. We’ve done this before, we could do it in our sleep. Don’t forget that.”

Stiles nods sharply. They have done this before, so much so they’ve been commended twice by the city. Stiles had law enforcement in his blood, his dad served as county sheriff so long, the city people still called him Sheriff like it was his first name. He knew Stiles would follow in his footsteps and Stiles went the extra mile, going to school and graduating early so he could enter the force as an officer.

He knew how to assess a situation and guarantee the safety of all involved and he was proud of that. But this? This was something he knew that he wasn’t supposed to know. And he didn’t know how to handle it.

“Yes, sir. Let’s identify any possible exits and see about getting backup here to handle any possible negotiations?”

Derek nods, and lets out a meaningful and relieved sigh.

“Sounds good, Stilinski, I’ve already signaled for backup, I’ll go around and meet you on the west side. Be careful.”

Derek runs off as Stiles approaches the entrance as stealthily as possible. He’s low to the ground and can hear Mrs. Wilking giving out instructions.

“ _Don’t fret, young ones. I come from a generation before yours that’s more versed in the ways of the community that you’re funding. Don’t think of this as emptying out your savings, but rather rebuilding and investing in a future where we’ll be unstoppable. We’ll protect you, but only if you cooperate.”_

Stiles can’t help the shudder that runs through him. He reels back, careening out of position until his back is met by a cold marble wall. Here, he spots Derek to his left, appearing discombobulated and out of sorts. He’s about to go to him when he looks towards the bank entrance and sees Mrs. Wilking is staring at him openly smirking. Her eyes have the same cloudy clearness as Mr. Gajos. Stiles can’t move, and he can’t look away. Can’t look away from the sinister dry cracked lips, outlining the faded dentures improperly fitted in her mouth. The cold, hard grin that graces the old woman’s face. He can’t look away from the slight twitch in her hands, nor the minute movement of her lips as she recites God knows what. He knows he should move, but he can’t. He can’t.

He feels a tug on his shoulder and finally his gaze is torn away as Derek pulls him over and shoves him inside a supply closet along the wall. It’s small and Derek slams the door shut before turning on a small hanging lightbulb.

“What the _fuck_ is going on!?” Stiles yells finally as his senses suddenly flood back over him. This isn’t right, he’s close to his heat so he knows his emotions are out of whack, no- wait, he’s close to his vacation. His vacation he takes for a week once a year. And the excitement overwhelms him and it’s not hormones at all. Shit, did he say that out loud? With the look Derek is giving him, he may have said it-

“It’s a robbery, Stilinski.” Derek says, trying to feign calm though the weight of the situation sits heavily in his throat. Stiles swears he can feel the sweat of Derek’s palm soak through the shoulders of his uniform. Stiles shakes his head.

“It’s not a fucking _robbery_ and you know it, Derek!”

“Stilinski!”

“Derek, no, fuck this shit. It’s magic! We’re hiding in a fucking closet, and the bank is getting robbed by at least two senior citizens who look like they have a terrible case of glaucoma and this is all fucking happening because of fucking magic!”

“Dammit, Stiles!” Derek yells, breaking form and slapping his palm on the shelf behind Stiles. He ducks his head and breathes slowly before looking into Stiles’ pleading eyes.

“Don’t gaslight me here, Derek. Fuck the bureaucratic bullshit, this isn’t Sergeant Stilinski reporting to Lieutenant Hale, it’s me, fucking Stiles talking to you, fucking Derek and saying that out there is some magical bullshit.” Stiles points at the door and can see that Derek feels it too. The offness that’s permeated the air, that keeps them from fully being able to enter the bank, to stop whatever chaos this is.

“It’s… it’s big, Stiles. Those are _huge_ words and you know it.” Derek says softly, and Stiles does know. Magic and all things supernatural had been banned from Beacon county for decades. The supernaturals who weren’t killed or thrown out, simply lived in hiding. Many didn’t even know some still existed, but Stiles knew. He and his dad were among them.

In a way it always kind of pissed Stiles off. He knew his dad was a “human alpha”, but outside of some heightened senses, he never fully grasped what that meant and why it was so different that his dad was forced to hide a part of himself, and even worse, forced by himself into early retirement after the Peter Hale debacle. Stiles was a human omega, like his mom, which made it all the more confusing. Outside of a ridiculous week of prolonged and intense sexual urges, Stiles couldn’t see the point of being an omega. And because magic and the supernatural were banned in the county and frowned upon just about everywhere else, finding information on the subject was next to impossible. He could only rely on really shady word of mouth or ancient text books that were salvaged from the burnings. He couldn’t discern between things like what an emissary or a spark were, or if something like a werecoyote was just a ridiculous invention or a real threat. Stiles tried, but the more he stayed silent, the more it seemed the supernatural would blow up in his face. It hadn’t been this overt since the Peter Hale incident.

Things were almost good. Even though the Supernatural and magic were still taboo, people were beginning to turn a blind eye and were maybe even on the road to being tolerant of magic practitioners and supernaturals in the area. The Mayor Hale incident changed all of that, forcing another purge of alleged supernaturals -self inflicted and otherwise- and a clamping down on the laws. Stiles missed the brunt of it, thankfully being halfway across the country at school. But even that wasn’t paradise. New York was pretty liberal, but still tight lipped all things considered.

When he came back, the shift in mood was instantly noticeable. Stiles credited the change to the installation of the Argents at nearly every head of city and county government (even Scott’s wife Allison was an ombudsman). The family was large and powerful, but openly shady, if there was such a thing. Everyone was wary of them, but few were willing to give a reason why. Even Allison and her dad, Christophe were persons of interest and they generally were nice people who kept to themselves. Peter Hale was one of the few that stood up to the family bravely, and he was rewarded with the position of city Mayor. He was beloved and ran his position well. Well… until he went berserk, outed himself as a shifter and killed all those people that is.

“Derek, please.” Stiles nearly begs, placing his hand on Derek’s heart, “I know it’s a lot, but we’re in way over our heads here and if we don’t admit what this is, it means we just called a whole bunch of people here just to put them in danger, not to mention the poor people inside that bank.”

Derek considers the hand and then sighs, defeated, “Okay, okay, fine, you’re right,” he says, raising his hands in surrender before landing them on his hips in the small space. “It’s magic, it’s definitely magic. But why now? Why this? To rob a bank? None of this makes sense, Stiles.”

“I know, Lieu, but if we’re going to get through this, I need to know you have my back. And know that I have yours.”

Derek looks up then at Stiles, almost wounded at the prospect that Stiles would ever think it was any other way. Stiles can’t help the small flutter in his chest, or the ever so slight (and wholly inappropriate for the situation) smirk that quirks on the edge of his lips. Derek notices anyway, and nods solemnly.

“Me and you, Stiles. I have your back and you have mine, through any and everything.”

The night of Peter’s takedown, Stiles was there. He was pushed out of the main hall once the attacks began, but by the end of the night he saw the six dead, laid out as body bags were acquired. He didn’t know any of them intimately he didn’t think, though he knew who they were. One was his old high-school gym teacher, Kate. She’d just started as Stiles was graduating and she was just as typically cold, and icy as any of the Argents were. Stiles doesn’t know if anyone deserves the kind of death that Peter doled, out, but he can’t say he didn’t wonder too hardly where Kate was concerned. Calling her unpleasant was more than an understatement. Stiles likes to infer that it was the combination of guilt felt by _not_ being sorry about her passing along with the natural intimidation of their family is what allowed Victoria to be voted next into office, and Chris made city council member. The elections acted as sort of a… _mea culpa_ from the city.

The other five victims seemed to live on the same fringed edge as Kate. Skirting the law, one way or the other, involved conspicuously in some illegal business, but not enough to actually be implicated. One was a scientist who used to work at the local chemical lab until he was accused of manufacturing and selling recreational blends on the company dime. All records were closed, and the scientist never fought the charges, but he did resign. Stiles recognized two more as thugs who had a list of petty misdemeanors a mile long, and another as a car thief who used to live just on the outskirts of town.

It was the last victim that was most notable, former Mayor Tamora Monroe. A shrewd, vicious woman who hated Peter and his family. At the time, Stiles could never understand the vitriol she had against them, but upon Peter being outed, it all made sense. Years before Tamora was trapped on a bus that was later said to have been attacked by bears. When Stiles asked his father about it later, the sheriff told him it was probably a supernatural beast. Whatever it was left Tamora scarred for life, inside and out, and she only doubled her efforts to upend anything supernatural in the city. Peter’s campaign was a breath of fresh air from Tamora’s strict “Supernatural checks” and ridiculous propaganda. Again, magic wasn’t something that was tolerated just yet, but many were starting to not be so scared of it anymore, and it was Tamora’s blind ambition to reset the public opinion.

They were so close to being able to come out, and Stiles remembers how he let the fear of the evening overtake him. He remembers seeing Peter struggling wildly against his restraints, as they stuffed him, mad and raving into the back of a van. He remembers how suddenly lonely he felt, how much like a coward. If he’d been thinking clearly maybe he would have see it more as the assassination of Peter Hale and investigated it like a true crime. Maybe he wouldn’t have fled back across the country while his dad was ousted and Gerard took control, sweeping the case under the rug. Stiles had so many regrets, and when he came back, as he took his vows to protect and serve, he promised never to betray himself, or anyone else again.

“Thanks, Derek. I knew it, but I really needed to hear it.” Stiles says as he squeezes Derek’s bicep. Derek nods knowingly and gestures towards the door.

“So what are we going to do? If this is magic, we can’t defeat it. Neither of us are magic.”

Stiles shrugs, “I don’t know, even if I did know what to do with-”

Suddenly there’s a bang at the door and the young men can hear a frantic voice on the other side.

“Hello! Please, is somebody in there?! They’ve got guns, we need help!” Stiles reaches for the handle, but Derek stops him.

“Wait, what were you going to say? Stiles! What-”

“Derek, there’s no fucking time, we have to help!”

“Help! Officers, help!” the banging on the door gets louder and more urgent but Derek holds Stiles back.

“Stiles, she said _officers_ , what if it’s a trap? I need to know what you-”

“Dammit, Derek, just let me open the door, we’ll figure out the rest lat-” Stiles finally gets his hand on the door and turns the knob shoving it open, as soon as he and Derek fly out, they’re immediately hit in the face with a purple, sparkly powder.

Stiles is falling… down a rainbow? No… but yes, on a unicorn! A unicorn with thick, bushy eyebrows, and the unicorn is ice skating down the rainbow, which Stiles surmises must make sense since rainbows are light refracted off of water and in the air. Yes, it’s colder and possibly they are up very high, and it’s very cold, and thus makes plenty of sense why they can ice skate on a rainbow! So it would reason that the lower they got to earth, the warmer it would get which completely explains why they’re sinking through the rainbow now. Yes, it’s perfectly sensical to Stiles as he is submerged into red, through orange and then yellow. It suffices the logic centers in his mind as he descends through green, traverses the blue and swims in the cacophony of violet hues. The purple surrounds him, permeating his core and he can feel it everywhere, his eyes, his nose, his throat, his lungs-

“Stiles! C’mon on, buddy! Come back to me!” His unicorn is grimacing and presses his surprisingly soft unicorn lips to his, blowing air into his lungs, which confounds Stiles in a few ways. 1) Stiles went to college for three years, and was a pretty poppin’ senior if he says so himself, he knows this is not how kissing is done. 2) This not something that Stiles’ brain supplies him with as possible, but he also never thought it possible for his unicorn to yell at him, so he decides to table that for now so he can consider number three. 3) Since when does Stiles want to kiss his unicorn? He thinks about this as the unicorn anti-kisses him again and he dry heaves in response, which to him seems like an over-reaction, but seems to please Derek, he means… his unicorn. Wait, fucking what?

“That’s good, that’s good, Stiles, keep coughing.” Derek lifts Stiles slightly, turning him to the side as Stiles coughs up thick purple powder from his lungs. It’s like the time he and Scott did the cinnamon challenge except so much worse. Stiles hacks up more powder as Derek pats him gently on the back. He can see a little, he can tell Derek dusted the powder away from his eyes and he sees Derek with powder covering mostly his shirt, a little on his nose, and some around his mouth from where he’d held it against Stiles’. Stiles coughs again.

“Don’t try to talk yet. I want you to take a few sips of this, very slowly, okay?”

Stiles nods as Derek puts a water bottle up to his mouth and slowly feeds him small sips of water. As he begins to recover, he looks around him.

“Wha-... what happened?” Stiles asks. He finally notices it’s quiet around them, too quiet. He sees flashing lights outside indicating a squad car and the low, non-descript murmuring aside, the only other sound he can hear is the click of the Captain’s heels as she approaches Derek and Stiles. What was she doing here? He turns to ask Derek who is nodding towards the Captain respectfully while he speaks to Stiles lowly through gritted teeth.

“Stiles, this is going to sound weird, but I need you to go along with me. Follow my lead every step of the way, you got it? We’ll talk later.” Derek accepts Stiles’ quick nod and Stiles clears his throat upending more purple haze. He doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into, or what Derek is trying to hide, but he trusts him, even more fiercely than ever before.

“Lieutenant, I’m hoping you have an explanation for me?” Marin Morrell reaches the men but stays purple glitter distance away while eyeing them shrewdly. Stiles didn’t know much about Morrell outside of her yearly approving his vacation and constant denial of his armory requests, but there was something about her that he liked. Well, that he at least respected the hell out of. She was a hard worker and physically incapable of bullshit, giving or receiving. So Stiles knew that whatever game Derek was about to play, it was only going to be allowed because Morrell was the one allowing it. She had her reasons and God knows she has her secrets, but Stiles still feels so… reverential towards her. Like if Lydia’s mentor had a mentor. She’d be Marin Morrell.

“Yes, ma’m, Captain… m’am. Captain Morrell.” Derek stutters as Morrell’s gaze seems to pierce his very soul. Stiles understood completely and all he could think about was which acronym would apply to the very real stroke he assumed Derek was having now.

“Toast?” Stiles supplies, but before he can assign letters to helpful mnemonic tricks, he falls into another coughing fit.

Derek closes his eyes and Stiles can swear that he sees the lines around Morrell’s pursed mouth soften ever so slightly.

“Lieutenant, take a breath, and explain.”

Derek nods. “Yes, Captain. Sergeant Stilinski and I believe we spotted dual assailants running from the bank while investigating the call of the pulled alarm. We informed the suspects to stop, but they gave chase and we followed them. We almost had them apprehended, but before we could they launched what could only be described as a glitter bomb towards us, covering us with a powder of unknown origin. Both the sergeant and I appear to be okay though Sergeant Stilinski got the brunt of it and will be examined again when the paramedics arrive.”

“What? No- I’m fi-” Stiles tries to finish the sentence, but is felled again by the purple crush. He stands up as if proving a point and breathes deeply before coughing again pumping out purple clouds into the air. It’s nearly lovely.

Morrell is not impressed. She’s about to say as much, but Derek -rolling his eyes- beats her to the punch.

“Shut up, Stiles. You’re going.” he says resolutely and Stiles nods, agreeing and surprising himself.

Morrell looks between the two and silently signals for Derek to continue.

“The assailants continued on foot while I sorted out the sergeant, but as you can see I was able to apprehend and subdue them, restraining them until backup arrived.”

Stiles crinkles his brow, he can see more detail around the squad lights he saw as he was coming to and does see the backseats of two of them are occupied; one by Mrs. Wilking, the other by Mr. Gajos. Derek was able to catch them after Stiles went out? Were they the ones at the door? The voice sounded so much younger and there was only one of them!

“You see why I’m a little bit skeptical to your claims, don’t you, Lieutenant?” Morrell presses, but Derek is the picture of calm as he shrugs innocently.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He says, challenging her right back.

She remains unperturbed, but wary. She looks towards Stiles who is still gawking at the two suspects. They’re sitting still in the car, looking sad, confused and defeated. Mr. Gajos is crying. Stiles wants to comfort him for some reason.

“Sergeant.” Morrell says, snapping Stiles from his sudden charity.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Stiles, what do you remember about this evening?”

“Umm, not much.” Stiles says roughly, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s been taking sips of water whenever Derek proffers the bottle. He won’t let Stiles actually hold it because he knows Stiles will drink it too fast, but it’s gotta look weird now that Stiles is actually standing. However, Stiles can’t help but feel something like pride and that confuses him. “It was just like the Lieu said, we were running and then I got blasted by Prince’s ashes.”

Morrell gives him a look so curt it makes Stiles blush.

“What? Too soon?”

“Sergeant Stilinski, this is a serious matter.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Cap.”

“I want you to tell me the truth.” She says, stepping forward and poking Stiles in the chest. He tries everything not to cough in her face. He wants to turn his head, but he can’t break their gaze. “If not out of civic duty to this city or as an effect of the oath you took, then at the very least out of the respect you have for me. Because what you’re asking me to believe is preposterous.”

“And just what is that, ma’m? What’s so crazy about arresting two suspects?” Stiles asks, careful not to eye Derek too much.

“You want me to believe that you two were involved in a high speed, on foot chase involving a pair of elderly citizens who then incapacitated two of Beacon County’s finest with _purple party poppers_?” She seethes, popping the ‘p’ as deliberately as possible. Stiles tries to think of something to say, but all he can see is poor Mrs. Wilking, fallen asleep with her face pressed up against the window.

“That’s right, Ma’am. That’s _exactly_ what we’re asking.” Derek says. Stiles and Morrell both look at him quizzically as he fixes Morrell with a hard, pleading look. “Marin, please.” Stiles’ eyes widen. Marin? What was Derek doing?

“I have proven time and time again that I’m a damn good protective and my… instinct was to protect my… my partner at any and every cost. I wouldn’t leap into something I couldn't handle, you know that. So yes, Captain, I’m asking you to believe me. To believe this. Until.” _Until what_? Is all Stiles could wonder though Derek’s statement seemed to be complete and Morrell seemed to take it as such.

“Captain, can we please debrief back at the station? The paramedic is parking and I want to make sure the sergeant is ready when they are.”

Morrell sighs, but nods.

“We’ll definitely have a conversation back at the station, Lieutenant. And I’ll make sure Alan Deaton sits in to mediate.”

Stiles shivers. He never quite knew what the mediator slash animal consultant slash K9 trainer’s actual position was, but he knew whenever Alan was around, something vague and unsettling was just ten paces behind.

Morrell walks away, her heels clicking authoritatively on the marble. Derek watches after her and Stiles… watches Derek.

“Sooo… Stiles starts, giving a feint attempt at coyness, “Marin?”

Derek huffs before turning to Stiles, “It was nothing, are you okay?” Stiles is about to protest but finds himself holding still and reverent as Derek fusses over him, brushing some of the stray powder away and directing Stiles to drink more. He’s standing close, probably closer than what’s appropriate. Stiles can smell his cologne… and… and something _else_.

“Derek, I’m sorry.”

Derek’s eyes flit from Stiles’ mouth to his eyes.

“Sorry? For what? Stiles, I was supposed to protect you!” And that wasn’t true at all. Sure, they were supposed to look out for each other, but their job was to protect the city, though despite knowing this, Stiles couldn’t bring himself to disagree.

“For going for the door. It was like… an instinct? I had to help that lady, that voice, it hit me and it got in the way of my training, my fucking common sense... everything!”

Derek stills Stiles, placing both hands on his shoulders and squeezes gently. It’s much like their position in the closet though this time they had even more personal space to ignore.

“I get it, Stiles. It’s okay.” Derek breathes in hard and then catches his breath, closing his eyes quickly. Stiles swears he saw... _something_ , a flash maybe? He tries to focus, but he’s met with an overwhelming need to comfort the man, to hold him, to console him.

“No, dude. That was a big deal, you trusted me, and not only did I let you down, but you got sex pollen all over your uniform!” Derek laughs and Stiles coughs lightly, though it seems the last of the purple dust is gone. He shrugs, grinning, “I’m just saying, I know the Holi paint war is a good look for you, but I’m sorry just the same.”

“Stiles…” Derek says softly. He’s close, so close now, “There’s no such thing as sex pollen. And you’re an idiot.” Then he leans forward and before Stiles can react with some quip, Derek’s lips are on his lips and it’s not like the unicorn at all. Fuck that unicorn, especially if it could have kissed him like this the whole time. It’s not an overly remarkable kiss, just a slight pout to pout, with enough purse in the middle to cause a wet smack. It’s slow and smooth and wildly inappropriate given their setting and Stiles never wants it to end. And even when it does, he’s still satiated by the tingle that stays on his lips. Derek pulls back as Stiles tries to control the smile on his face.

“What was that for?” He asks, nearly in a whisper.

“For being okay.” Derek explains, like his words explain anything.

“And not because of the sex pollen?” Stiles brattily asks, just because he can and he knows it. Derek gives his patented eyeroll and shakes his head, the smirk refusing to leave his face.

“There’s no such thing, Sergeant. That’s magic and magic doesn’t exist. Besides, that wasn’t sex. We just kissed and it wasn’t because of pollen it was because of-”

“Because of what?” Stiles asks. He’s placed his hands on top of Derek’s on his shoulders and he can’t help but look at the swirls of gold embedded in his hazel eyes. “Why’d you really kiss me?”

Derek answers with a look that speaks to some part of Stiles, settling it, but not a part he’s familiar with. He wants to find out.

“Wanna do it again?” He moves minutely forward, and cocks his head slightly in invitation.

“Stiles…” Derek hisses out, like he’d like to do that and so much more.

“Sergeant, Liuetenant, this way please!” The two men look towards the voice and see the paramedics have arrived. Boyd isn’t looking at them, instead he’s filling out paperwork on an iPad and motioning blindly to them to follow him. Both men breathe out a sigh of relief. Stiles rubs the back of his head and looks back at Derek.

“To be continued?”

Derek looks him up and down quickly and starts to head towards the door. “Yeah… to be continued.”

As Derek walks away, Stiles follows slowly behind as a realization and confirmation come to mind. He understands now what it was that stood between him and Derek and why Stiles couldn’t even allow himself to get closer to the man.

 

Stiles Stilinski was in fucking love.


	2. Chapter 2

When Stiles’ father and mother moved to Beacon Hills, they quickly registered as betas. They knew the supernatural was outlawed, but Claudia felt a connection to the place and wanted to be close to one of the few -albeit dormant- nemetons in the country.

So they hid their alpha and omega status and lived as normally as possible. It was Claudia's plan to teach Stiles the truth of his destiny when he was old enough to understand, but sadly she was taken before she could do anything but teach him how to hide.

After Stiles is cleared by the paramedics and cleaned up a bit, he decides to take a detour home before heading back to the station. He knew there would be questions, but he also knows the Captain would understand his need to see his dad. He drives far into the outskirts of town, just past the city limits. They were secluded out here and it’s the way Stiles liked it, the way it needed to be at least. It was quiet enough that they could move around mostly undisturbed

It’s the way it’s always been and the way it always would be until something changed, Stiles guesses. He wasn’t upset with that, he got along well with his dad and loved him a great deal. What bothered him was he’d always envisioned his future to be he and his dad. And now he’s wondering if anyone else would be able to fit in. Could they? Would Derek?

“Yeah, thanks, Mel. He just walked in.” Stiles hears his dad hang up the phone and goes to the living room where he’s standing with his arms crossed. He takes one look at his son and nods, turning and leaving the room. Stiles plops on the sofa and his dad comes back with two beers in hand. He sits in his usual chair and hands one over to Stiles.

“Rough day, eh kid?” He says simply. It’s enough to get Stiles started.

“Dad… what do you know about Derek Hale?”

Sheriff seems to be thrown a bit, but recovers quickly and ponders the question. “Well, son, he seems like a good kid. Got promoted quickly, hard worker, honest and extremely dedicated. He’s been filling in for Scott hasn’t he? Melissa says having Scott home with Allison has been a life saver. I hope Derek knows how much taking those shifts has helped.”

Stiles nods. He knows his dad is rambling, but he knows he rambles to stall while he tries to figure out the connection. He’s always been a good lawman, that way. He would seem almost bumbling, but then ask a question that let you know he was fully invested. Tonight was no exception.

“He’s related to Peter Hale, isn’t he?”

Stiles eyes widen. “What? What do you- I mean.. I don’t know, I didn't think so, but I guess.. I don’t know!” Stiles doesn’t know why this flummoxes him so badly. He can’t tell if it’s because it was a question that never fully got answered, or that he simply didn’t care if he knew. It’s like the question was there, but the desire to ask or dig further had been blocked.

“You don’t know everything about him, kid? You work together, Stiles. I know you research everyone you come into contact with just about.” Stiles would be offended if he knew the Sheriff wasn’t more than a little proud of him for it. Still, it was strange he didn’t look more into Derek.

“Wait, dad. What about you? You worked with him for years before I left for school.” Stiles accuses. Sheriff just shrugs.

“I was the sheriff, kid. My life was attending meetings and delegating human resources to those at the office. Derek was Marin’s boy. I got reports and I approved the promotion, but I didn’t interact much with him.”

“Yeah, that makes sense I guess.”

“What doesn’t make sense is you, Stiles.” Sheriff points and Stiles agrees.

“I know, but I just realized I had a really good reason for not wanting to know him or get closer.

“What’s that?”

Stiles grins, thinking about the tingle still on his lips.

“I’m crazy about him, dad.”

“Oh, Stiles!” His dad says, perturbed, but Stiles can’t fight the grin that spreads quickly across his face.

“I’m head over heels for the guy, and I guess I have been for a while, but tonight? Tonight something changed. You should have seen him dad, he was so protective and took such good care of me.”

“He took care of you, Stiles, what? What happened?!” The sheriff leaned forward, but Stiles kept going, nearly giddy.

“I know! It sounds weird, that’s not me. I’m not the guy who wants to be taken care of, but it just felt so right! And when he kissed me-”

“He kissed you? On the scene? Wait, who is this boy again? Stiles, you can’t go around kissing your partner at the scene of a crime, what’s gotten into you?”

“And I can’t let him find out about me. Can I? I mean, I was planning never to be with anyone, you know? Be that weird spinster uncle to Scott and Allison’s kids, but Derek makes me want... I don’t know what. I just feel like maybe there’s… _more_.”

Stiles sighs, fidgeting with the label of his bottle before taking a drink. As he sips he stops suddenly at his dad’s crestfallen expression.

“Dad, what?”

“Stiles, I didn’t… I didn’t realize that you’d resigned yourself to never finding _love_ , son.” Sheriff leans forward and places a hand on Stiles’ knee. “I don’t want that for you, no father would.”

“Dad, it’s okay. Did you really think I’d be able to find someone who would get why I become a horny toad for a week a year? I barely get it myself, I have to have someone else deal with that?”

“Stiles, if the person loves you for you, then it’s worth it. Your mother and I lived in secret, but we were each other _with_ each other. We’re explicit proof that supernaturals exist in this town, I know if anyone could find someone like minded, it would be you. You don’t love softly, Stiles. If you believe in this Derek boy enough to have a crush on him, or whatever this is? Then I think your instincts are trying to tell you they trust him enough to tell.”

“Tell? Everything? I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“Well, at least talk to him maybe? Feel him out? You never know, the worst he could say is _no_ , but don’t give up on finding someone, kid. You’ve got too many great things about you to love, no sense in hogging it all to yourself.”

Sheriff winks at his son and Stiles abruptly bursts into tears. The sheriff laughs brightly.

“I swear, it’s my hormones because the heat is so close!” Stiles tries to explain, but Sheriff can’t hear him, he’s laughing too hard.

“Shut up, dad! I’m going to put you in a home!” Stiles threatens, but the sheriff only laughs harder. Stiles smiles, wipes his eyes and thinks about what he’s going to say to Derek.

Back at the station he sees Mrs. Wilking and Mr. Gajos being held in the questioning rooms while they wait for a representative from the senior living center and aging commission to arrive. Mrs. Wilking keeps asking why she’s there and Mr. Gajos won’t stop blubbering tears. Both are obviously afraid and Deputy Yukimura is sent to soothe Mr. Gajos while Deputy Hewitt is sent to Mrs. Wilking. Stiles was never an actual deputy and got to bypass “perp duty” and he never regretted it for a second.

He walks to Derek’s office and Derek stands, grabbing a stack of papers on his way towards Stiles. He’s cleaned up and now that Stiles’ crush is fully realized, he can finally take the man in. And with the hormones from his upcoming heat starting to flare, it’s almost staggering. The man has always had an ass you can crack walnuts on or bounce quarters off of, or whatever it is you do with asses… fuck, Stiles was a goner. The hazel eyes framed by deliciously olive skin and inky jet black hair were just his type, and the man made stubble an art form. Stiles wanted it, and fuck, now the sentimental part was coming.

Derek was… _nice_. He always had a kind word and even when he was angry it was for such a righteous reason that you couldn’t hold it against him. His earnestness made Stiles constantly overlook the additional fact that Derek was a total, snarky smart ass when he wanted to be and Stiles thinks he loves that most of all. He wanted Derek, and for the first time, he thinks that Derek might want the same.

“Hey, can we… can we talk-”

“You ready? Marin wants to see us and then the sheriff.” Derek looks rushed and starts motioning towards the door as though he’d been waiting for Stiles so they could go together; a united front.

Stiles nods by habit, but then stops.

“Wait, the sheriff? Argent? Why does he want to see us? And can it wait just a few minutes? I really want to talk to you, Derek.” Stiles tries to plead, but Derek is far too distracted.

“Argent is brushing this whole thing under the rug, but Morrell is still suspicious so during questioning, just keep deflecting until Argent gets impatient and calls us away. Both perps claim to be amnesiac, there’s just no time right now, Stiles. Can it wait?”

Stiles watches Derek, flustered and slightly pensive. He nods.

“Yeah, it can wait.”

Unused to there not being a fight, Derek looks at Stiles, “Are you sure, Stiles? I promise, I’ll make the time as soon as we get some breathing room.”

“Yeah, Derek, it’s fine. It can wait.” And it could. Because now Stiles was thinking about forever, and forever can wait if it needs to. Damn, he was getting sappy.

Derek and Stiles walk to Morrell’s office and the door opens instantly when Stiles reaches for it. He’s about to enter when Morrell puts her hand up.

“Not you.” she says, pointing at him. Then she points at Derek, “You, come in. Stiles, stay out here until I have Cora bring you in.” Derek and Stiles share a look before Derek is ushered in and the door closes roughly in Stiles’ face. He bristles until he hears a snort behind him.

“Just tell her it was Stockholm’s and she’ll let you go.” Cora says absently from her desk. She’s pretending to do paperwork, but Stiles knows she’s really probably playing some game.

“She’ll let me go alright,” Stiles huffs knowingly, “it’s never Stockholm’s, Cora. That way lies madness.”

“Yeah… I don’t really care, you know that, right?”

“Yup!” Stiles says, sloppily saluting the office administrator who hasn’t looked up once from her garden scaping or candy crushing or whatever the hell it is she’s doing. She was one of his favorite people.

A few minutes later he could hear the tell-tell gait of his other fave walking down the hall.

“Lydia, my first love.”

“Stiles, my only loathe.”

Stiles has known Lydia Martin since the third grade when he declared his intent to become the next Mr. Stiles Martin. His time courting her was brief, but no less epic than anything else Stiles put his mind to. Stiles wooed her with muddy bullfrogs from the local creek, sometimes a rogue worm placed on her chair at school. When he was feeling very bold, he’d pull her pigtail or make her mud pies. He did all the things that he knew he himself would love, so it mystified him that she was so resistant to his tactics. Often she’d scream in his face or take the mudpies and throw them at him. He’d run crying back home where his mom would console him and gently tell him that when a woman says they’re not interested he has to listen, and maybe he should try being her friend.

When Stiles insisted that was all he was trying to do - Scott loved when Stiles gave him worms - Claudia suggested that maybe he try to find out what she actually likes instead of assuming. The next day Stiles took Lydia a cookie and apologized. It was a chocolate chip cookie “ _with no nuts, because I know you’re allergic_ ”.

They’ve been great friends ever since. In fact, one of the few times that Stiles came back from school to Beacon Hills was to officiate Cora and Lydia’s wedding. It was a small affair, mostly people from the force, and it was held in Lydia’s backyard. There was some chanting and weird holistic stuff which was strange given that Argent was there and the ban on magic was very much still in effect, but Lydia insisted it wasn’t magic and it was just good, clean eastern living. Stiles remembers that… he remembers… _chanting_ that?

Lydia kisses Cora hello and perches herself on her desk. As she gets comfortable, the sheriff walks in and pauses briefly at Stiles.

Gerard Argent was a miserly old man who, despite his age, managed to instill fear in the hearts of men half his age, and twice his body weight in muscle. The man just had this edge of evil about him and he creeped Stiles out. Stiles was pretty empathetic and served as their number one negotiator in tough situations. He could connect with just about everyone, but Gerard was a tough nut to crack, and Stiles wasn’t too anxious to try. He avoided him at all costs, preferring to deal with Morrell or Derek. Gerard points at him.

“Stilinski, you still gotta talk to Morrell?” Gerard asks. Stiles wants to say something, but he’s sure if he opens his mouth he’s going to vomit. He knows it’s his hormones from his upcoming heat -he’s only a day away- but this time it seems to be coming faster and Stiles’ sensitivities are all fucked up. He nods as Gerard rolls his eyes.

“Look, come into my office now and when we’re done you can come back to her.” Gerard motions for Stiles to follow him, but Lydia motions to him to stay and locks eyes with Gerard.

“Sheriff Argent, I think it would be best if Stiles stayed and waited to talk to Morrell, don’t you?”

“What, no, I want to talk to him now! Stilinski, let’s go!” Gerard protests, but Lydia continues. Stiles notices that Cora is slightly nervous, her eyes flit wildly between him, Gerard, Lydia and the nearest accessible exit.

“Sheriff Argent, I _think_ it would be _best_ if Stiles _stays_ and waits to talk to Morrell first. Don’t you _think_ that’s for the _best_?” She says again. Gerard’s eyebrow furrows, like he pondering the meaning of her words, but after a moment he nods.

“Yeah, yeah…. I _think_ it would be for the _best_ if Stiles waited to talk to Morrell.”

“Good, that was such a good idea, Sheriff. You always have the _best_ ideas.”

“I do always have the _best_ ideas, don’t I?” At this Stiles and Cora both get their eyes lost in a deep roll as Gerard continues nodding to himself on the walk to his office, mumbling about always having “the _best_ ideas”. When he’s gone, Cora reaches over and pinches Lydia’s thigh.

“You’re showing off, that wasn't necessary. How long is he gonna be like that anyway?”

“Don’t worry, sweetie, just about 10 minutes and he won’t know anything different.”

“How long is he gonna be like what? Did you do something to him?” Stiles asks from the couch. Cora and Lydia’s attentions snap to Stiles. Cora’s eyes narrow.

“Umm… Stiles… can you… can you hear us right now?”

Stiles chuckles.

“What? Of course I can hear you. Why wouldn’t I be able to hear you? And can you teach me whatever jedi mind trick you just did to Argent, because I feel like that’s going to be real helpful in the future.”

“Stiles, I want you to listen to me very carefully.” Lydia says, standing from Cora’s desk and walking in front of Stiles. She leans in close to him and they lock eyes, her mysterious greens to his curious browns. “Morrell is going to ask you questions about the robbery, and when she does you will tell her that there’s nothing unusual about the circumstances. It was a straightforward robbery, no muss, no fuss. Do you understand?”

Stiles looks at Lydia and then side eyes towards Cora who is watching him with more interest than he ever thought it possible for her to muster.

“Uhh… what the fuck are you talking about, Lyds? Mason said we got back the money and yet poor Mrs. Wilking and Mr. Gajos are still in holding. This case makes no sense!”

“Dammit, Stiles!” Lydia yells uncharacteristically before placing her hands on Stiles’ shoulders to shake some sense into him. “It was a _straightforward_ robbery. No _muss_ , no _fuss_!”

“Uhh, no! Lots of fucking muss and lots of fucking fuss! What the hell is going on?” Stiles shakes Lydia’s hands from his shoulders and looks at her incredulously. Lydia gasps and takes a step back before looking at Cora who is rubbing her temples.

“Babe, if Morrell comes out tell her I’ve taken Stiles into Deaton’s office. Stiles, let’s go.” Lydia motions and Stiles knows it’s not a suggestion so he gets up and follows her down the hall to Deaton’s defacto office where he conducts training for the K9 division. Stiles sits at one of the desks and watches as Lydia locks the door and scribbles something in chalk near the entrance. She chants something softly under her breath and in a moment it feels like the room has been vacuum sealed. Stiles’ ears pop.

“What… the _fuck_?” Sure, it’s inelegant, but Stiles knew he was seeing what he definitely wasn’t supposed to be seeing, what wasn’t even supposed to exist, but here it was, etched on the ground in front of the only exit.

“Stiles!” Lydia says, snapping twice to get Stiles’ attention. She points at him, “what are you?”

She’s blunt, but that’s okay, he can deal with blunt, the rest of this? He wasn’t so sure.

“What am I? What the fuck are you? What’s going on, Lydia?!”

“By asking what I am, you’re implying that I’m something other than human, Stiles. And the only reason someone who was merely human would ask someone else who has shown themselves to be human ‘ _what are you?’_ is because they think that maybe they’re not human. That maybe they are supernatural. And that would be impossible because supernaturals-”

“-don’t exist in the municipality of Beacon County! Jesus, Lydia, I know the script, but what I just saw was fucked up and the more I think about it, you’ve been pulling that shit for years, so please, cut the bullshit and just be real with me!” Stiles slumps in his seat as Lydia crosses her arms across her chest. Stiles wonders absently if she’s going to wiggle her nose and turn him into a bullfrog like the ones he used to give her, but instead she sighs.

“Fine, but if I’m going to cut the bullshit, then you are too. What are you?”

“So you are different?” Stiles asks cautiously, a seed of hope blooming in his chest. She watches him carefully for a moment and then nods.

“Yes, Stiles. I’m different.”

“What kind of different?”

“Banshee.”

Stiles eyes widen as he takes it in and tries to reference his mythology course from college. “So you can like... predict death?”

“Yes, along with some other traits that I’ve developed.”

“Like soundproofing this room?”

“Like anything to do with manipulation, Stiles. I can make the precinct turn a blind eye to my powers, I can persuade others to not question things. I never had anything localized for you so you probably have seen some weird shit going on for a while that you couldn’t explain, but I guess since you were hiding your own secret, you didn’t push it.”

“Fuck, yeah, like with Derek.”

“Derek?”

“Something my dad mentioned about me not getting more information on him.”

“Why do you want information on Derek? What do you want to know about Derek, Stiles?”

“Everything, Lyds, just… _everything_.” Stiles says almost wistfully. “Wait, is there something to know about Derek? What is it? What do you know?” Lydia shakes her head.

“No, Stiles, wait. What are you?”

Stiles shrugs, “I don’t know really, just an omega though I don’t fully know what that means. I know I can calm people down sometimes? I guess there’s some magic, but my mom died before I had a chance to learn more. The only thing I know about for sure are my heats which this one is gonna kick my ass-”

“Heats? An omega; does that mean the Sheriff is-”

“An alpha.”

“An alpha werewolf? Oh my god, Stiles!” Lydia gets excited, but Stiles shakes his head.

“No, just… an alpha. Wait, werewolves exist?

“Everything exists, Stiles. Wait, so your dad is a human alpha and your mother was an omega?”

“Yeah and something else called an emissary for someone around here, but again, she died before I could get any real information and it’s hell trying to find out anything. I guess presentations were a big deal then, they both registered as betas to get married, back when that was a thing.”

“Hmm… I wonder if that matches up in anyway, like are human omegas the same as werewolf omegas? Though that wouldn’t be right because Cora told me omegas were just lone wolves…” Lydia muses as Stiles continues to lose his damned mind.

“Cora is a fucking werewolf? Wait, does that mean Derek is a _fucking werewolf_?” Stiles nearly hyperventilates at the news as Lydia nods absently still working all of the revelations in her mind. Stiles snorts out a laugh, “Derek is a werewolf! That explains… well, absolutely fucking nothing and only brings up more questions, but it’s also cool as _shit_!” Stiles really needed to high five someone so he high fives his- _damned_ -self and ignores Lydia’s disappointed gaze.

“Derek is their alpha, he got it when Peter got locked up.”

“Wait, so they are related?”

“Yes, Peter’s Derek’s uncle. Making everyone think they weren’t was a part of the manipulation. You told yourself you knew lots of Hales, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, I do, it’s a pretty common name.”

“Name one besides Derek, Cora and Peter.”

Stiles thinks, “Umm… there’s… uhh…” Stiles racks his brain. There’s a ton of Hales in Beacon Hills, he bets if he had a phonebook it would be brimming with them, right? “Well, what about Cora’s family? I’m sure they weren’t isolated. My mom knew Talia. Oh shit, how did I just remember that? I don’t feel like I knew that before.”

“Cora and Derek’s family were killed in a fire, Stiles. They were the only Hales that lived here.”

Stiles can feel his heart beating in his chest as details vaguely start coming back to him. He was in… middle school? There was a fire, a woman set it? Kate?! Cora moved away, Stiles didn’t see her again until he started on the force. He… he remembers?

“If I’m different, then how did this mind shit work on me?”

Lydia shrugs, “everyone has a different tolerance, Stiles. I’m guessing whatever you got doused with on the scene lowered your defenses. I don’t think that was an accident.” Stiles considers that he has been having his heat effects more rapidly and he seems sensitive where his blockers would normally keep him stable. “The best thing to know is that you were kept in the dark for a reason. If I’d known, I would have told you sooner, but you did a very good job of hiding yourself.” Stiles nods. It was the one thing his mom was able to teach him.

“So that bank robbery was fucking weird, right? What was that?” Stiles asks. Lydia nods, then shrugs,

“”Derek said it was actually Mr. Gajos who was at the door. After you passed out he roared at the two and the spell broke. They instantly were confused and started crying just as the backup started to arrive.”

“Oh my god, he roared at poor Mrs. Wilking? Was it hot?”

Lydia ignores him and continues, “He’s the alpha, his job is to keep order which is one of the reasons he took the job in the first place. It means making the tough calls, even it that’s upsetting poor Mrs. Wilking.”

“Shit, Lydia, do you think we were meant to be? Alpha and Omega, that’s what my parents were. Does that mean something? Do you think I have a chance?”

Lydia smirks, “With Derek? Wait, you _like_ Derek? Stiles Stilinski, are you finally over me? It’s a bittersweet feeling, I must say.”

“First off, I will never be over you and my end game is still to somehow become Mr. Stiles Martin. I just… there’s something about Derek. I just never thought it was possible, and I always feel like a freak around my heats, so I don’t know why he’d want to put up with that, but like… if he’s used to this supernatural bullshit because he _is_ supernatural-”

“What are these heats you keep talking about? Derek’s been mentioning something about a rut lately, and Deaton is sparse with the details, but I don’t know what this heat thing is? Like a cat? Are you a shifter?”

Stiles shrugs, “I don’t think so? The only thing I really know is when I turned 16, for a week each year I’d want to fuck everything in a 5 mile radius. Or specifically, get fucked which is weird because guys can’t get pregnant so I don’t get it, but according to my dad male omegas are super rare to begin with. Mine is coming up soon, in fact my vacation starts tomorrow and I feel this shit coming on early. I’m going to hole myself up in a cabin I have in the woods and just get gross for a few days.”

“So that’s your annual vacation? Everyone always wondered, but no one ever knew what you did. And you’re just super horny for the entire week? Not to be insensitive, but that doesn’t sound too bad.” Lydia says, clearly imagining her own heat week in her mind. Stiles rolls his eyes, sure that her heat week wouldn’t include begging the weatherman on his small tv to fuck him.

“More like a business week with days on the end to prep and recover, though this one is coming on fast.” Stiles says, fanning himself and missing Lydia’s cocked brow, “And it sounds good because you’re in a loving and committed marriage and I’m hashtag forever alone. And shit, I’ll be pining on top of all of that. This is why I wanted to tell Derek first!”

“What? Why now?”

“Why not? If I’m going to be stressing over him for a week, I’d like it to be in more of a ‘heatspiration’ kind of way and not wondering if he likes me.”

Lydia shakes her head and sits in the desk besides Stiles, turning towards him.

“Stiles there’s still so much more information you don’t have. I know it sucks, but please wait until we can all sit down and hash this out?” Lydia looks pleadingly at Stiles and he knows instantly she’s not manipulating him and ultimately she’s right. He nods.

“Yeah, but could you do me a favor?” He asks as Lydia reaches over and squeezes his hand. When she nods, he continues, “can you send me any pics of him shifted? Because I really think that’s going to hel-”

“Jesus Christ, Stiles!” Lydia says, snatching her hand away exasperated as she walks towards the door. She stubs out the message with her toe and opens the door.

“Morrell is going to be waiting for you, get out of here.” Stiles laughs and before walking past her, leans over and kisses her on the cheek.

“Thanks, Lydia. This is.. Well it’s fucking hard. Thanks for making it easier.”

Lydia smiles sweetly and strokes his cheek, “If anyone has to be in the know, I’m glad it’s you. It’ll be nice finally having someone I can talk to about all of this.”

“Yeah, it will.” Stiles is about to leave, but Lydia places an hand on his forearm.

“Hey, do you want me to mention anything to Derek? Give him a heads up?”

Stiles considers the offer, but ultimately declines.

“Nah, I’d rather he heard it from me, that way I can tell him that I understand why he wasn’t able to tell me and maybe even explain myself a bit. Besides, I have this whole fantasy where I tell him and then we end up naked. I don’t want to jinx the details.”

“You just can’t help yourself can you?” Lydia says, shaking her head at him.

“Laugh or cry, Lyds. See ya.” Stiles heads back down the hall but is intercepted by Derek who pulls him in the other direction.

“Sheriff wants to see us _now_ , Stiles this shit just gets weirder and weirder.”

“Dude, you’re telling me!”

Derek looks back at Stiles as though to ask him a question, but they’re already at the Sheriff’s office who is waiting inside.

After Stiles’ dad left office, Gerard had the entire thing gutted and redecorated. For over a month the office was a swarm of french designers and really expensive shipments on the taxpayer’s dime. Gerard would play it off saying the station was in need of a complete overhaul, but strangely his office was the only one that saw any renovation.

Derek and Stiles walk in and sit on the two easy chairs across from Gerard, sinking down until it appears he’s hovering above them from behind his desk. Both sigh at the same time.

“I called you boys in here because we have a new threat that I need you to make your top priority.” Gerard starts, pushing a couple of folders across the table. Derek grabs one and turns it towards Stiles showing him the label. It simply says “Woods”.

“Sir, what about the robbery that we’re working? There’s still a lot of questions floating around that need answers.” Derek says, clearly trying to stall. Gerard is undeterred.

“Scrap that, we’ll have one of the deputies work it, it’s pretty open and shut and it will help boost their numbers. I need you on this, Lieutenant. And you too, Sergeant.”

“Sir, with all due respect, my vacation starts tomorrow and it’s already extremely late, our shifts ended hours ago.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘ _scrap that?’_ ,” Derek interjects, “we have to follow up, well at least, I was planning to because I knew Sergeant Stilinski would be out.”

“Both of you shut up!” Gerard bangs his fist on the table, causing Derek to seethe. Stiles swears he can hear a slight growl in his voice. He used to think it was his mind playing tricks on him, but now he knows that Derek is on the verge of being really angry. Stiles thinks he might like to see him when he’s really angry. Shit, this heat was coming on faster than he thought.

“You’re both going to go to this location at first light tomorrow morning and see if there’s anything suspicious happening. There’s been reports of explosions and ruckus there and it sounds like a meth lab.”

“Meth lab?” Stiles nearly shrieks, “Why isn’t the narc team on that? Shouldn’t K9 be involved? Are they still not ready?”

“I want you and the sergeant there to scope out the place and report on your findings-”

“Sir, you can’t just ignore me! My vacation starts tomorrow!”

“Dammit, Stilinski, we’re going to pay you for the time, it will just be a few hours out of your first day!” Argent shrieks.

Stiles can hardly believe it, “What if I had a plane to catch?”

“Do you? Provide the itinerary and then we’ll take a look-”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidd-”

“I don’t _kid_ , Stilinski and I don’t make requests out of my subordinates. You will do as you’re told or you will face the board for review.” Gerard slams his fist on the desk and points at Stiles like he’s a toddler, “Now you and your little guard dog here will be in that location as soon as the sun rises and I don’t want to hear another word about it, do I make myself clear?!”

Stiles looks at Derek whose eyes are closed. He exhales heavily and finally opens them, nodding curtly at the Sheriff.

“Yes, sir, we understand.”

Stiles huffs, “No! _We_ haven’t understood a single damned thing since we sunk down in these ridiculous fucking chairs. Derek, are you serious?”

“The Sergeant will heed your request, Sheriff, may we be dismissed so we can plan for tomorrow.”

“I barely wanted you in _here_ at all, now get the fuck out _there_ and do your jobs!” Gerard says, dismissing them before picking up a phone call. Derek motions for Stiles to follow him and Stiles does. Right back into Deaton’s office where he was earlier.

“What the fuck was that?!” Stiles bursts out just as Derek closes and locks the door. Derek raises his hands, approaching Stiles slowly, like a rabid animal.

“Stiles, I know there’s a lot of crazy shit happening, but you can’t act like that around him. You’ve done well staying off of his radar, just do what he asks, keep your head down and we can deal with the robbery later.”

“Robbery? Derek, my fucking vacation starts tomorrow!”

Derek’s deadpan look of disappointment lets Stiles know he’s not explaining himself correctly.

“What?” Derek asks simply, cocking a brow as though nothing in the world Stiles could say would make him sound any less vapid than freaking out over a vacation. Stiles knows the one thing that would, but he doesn't want to do it here. He doesn’t want to be naked in _this_ room.

“Okay, I know that sounds crazy, but I need you to cover for me, this vacation is really important and I absolutely can’t miss it.”

“Stiles, it’s a few days off in… wherever it is that you go.”

“Derek, I can’t explain it right now, I just… please I need you to trust me. You have my back and I have yours, forever and through anything, right?”

Derek sighs, “Stiles… I… he’s going to know if you’re not there. Trust me, just do this and it will save you so much trouble when you get back. The sun rises at something stupid like 5:15 am tomorrow, it’s unprecedented. We’re there for about an hour, we report in and I’ll even do all the paperwork so you can leave directly from the site, okay? Please, Stiles, let’s just… let’s just do this and be done.”

Stiles could cry and he was very close to breaking so he shrugs and nods sullenly. Derek pats him on the back.

“You work hard and you deserve your time off,” Derek says as he reaches the door. Stiles turns away as a tear slides down his cheek. “I’ll do what I can to make it as painless for you as possible, Stiles. Thanks.”

Stiles throws out a hand and Derek leaves, thankfully just before the dam bursts and he’s a pile of tears, snot and emotion.

Fuck, how was he going to deal with this?


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles drives towards the address, texting Derek and assuring him he’s on the way. He sighs and takes a huge gulp of water from his water bottle. The previous night? Was _rough_. And his dreams were… _kinky_ , which should have been fun, but instead he had to hold off on touching himself just in case it became a trigger for the heat to just start. He’s moody, feverish and would fuck himself on a tree branch if it complimented him enough. He just wants this to be over.

He pulls into the field next to Derek and puts on his sunglasses, hoping to shield the horniness he’s sure is leaking from his eyes.

Derek comes closer then stops suddenly. Inhaling and looking at Stiles with accusatory eyes. Shit, Stiles tried his best to shower this morning, but his skin was so sensitive he could barely stand it. Stiles sniffs at his clothes.

“What? I showered mostly! It’s so fucking early, Derek, what’s your deal!?”

Derek huffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest. “Sergeant, I know this is not ideal and you’re in an understandably shitty mood, but could you not be a dick to me? I’m seriously trying to make this as painless as possible.”

‘ _Only your cock in my ass would make it painless.’_ Stiles thinks, snorting to himself, though it make him wonder, “Hmm… is that irony?”

“Is what irony? Nothing I said was ironic.”

“What? No, not you! Well, you, but… in my head you.” Stiles... _explains_? The validity of that description is not one Stiles can bet on but he goes with it anyway because heat brain is a beyotch.

“Stiles, what the fuck, are you high? And why do you smell like…. Like that?”

Like what? He never really noticed one way or the other and his cabin was far enough in the wild that he didn’t see anyone for miles and days. He’s sure after things got started he was a smelly wreck, but now he had to be okay, right?

“I’m sorry if I smell bad, it’s just-”

“It’s not bad!” Derek yelps, surprising both him and Stiles. He looks quickly from Stiles and almost directly into the sun, but diverts at the last minute, turning heel and leading the way into the forest. “Just fucking come on!” He yells over his shoulder. Stiles shrugs and shakes his head. At the very least he could let Derek lead the way and enjoy the view.

God, the man had an ass that wouldn’t quit, not that Stiles wants it to. Derek’s ass was a good worker, it was in great shape. Stiles liked to imagine it was always on time and could multitask as a pillow if given the right motivation.

“Argent said the reports were coming from just up here, the path kind of winds so be care-” Derek drones on and Stiles is mostly listening. He sees Derek meander left and right and just keeps in his straight line, smiling occasionally when Derek looks back to see Stiles _definitely_ not staring at his ass with a horny smirk on his face.

“Searg- _Stiles_ , that… _smell_ , it’s very… familiar. Almost specific, but, I don’t know how to word this but umm, have you ever heard of- _oh shit!_ ” Derek drops, obviously tripping over some branch. Stiles runs closer to help him up, but the breeze changes and Derek holds a hand up, insisting on getting up himself.

‘ _Everyone wants to be a hero,’_ Stiles thinks to himself as Derek stands and dusts himself off. He points out the root to Stiles and continues leading the way.

“The grass is getting higher here, so be careful of where you step.” Derek’s voice is a little shaky, but not in a scared way, it’s like he’s repressing something. It’s deeper than it usually is, more gravelly, almost like a growl. Stiles likes a growl.

He’s walking through the grass and it glides across his hands tickling his palms. It feels soooooo good, _fuck_ it feels so good. His heats aren’t usually this intense so soon. Shit, was that really sex pollen they got hit with? Why is the reaction so delayed? Or does it just ramp shit up? Stiles lets out a moan causing Derek to stop. He doesn’t turn around though, just stays faced away from Stiles breathing heavily. Stiles would question it, but Derek’s ass cheeks are clenching and Stiles knows that if he opens his mouth, those cheeks would have flawless dental impressions on them and Stiles hasn’t even told the man he likes him. Talk about moving too fast!

“Stiles, you know what? If you’re sick, you should just… you should just go back, I’ll figure out a way to cover for you.”

No he won’t! Stiles has come all this way and there’s no way he’s going to yield to Derek’s damned martyr complex and his being so sweet and attending to Stiles’ wellbeing! Stiles can’t even deal with the nonsense of what’s going through his head, so he just musters up enough energy to hopefully say something that doesn’t come out as ‘ _pretty please fuck me into the ground?’_.

“M’Good, brah!” It… would have to do. Derek looks back at Stiles -slightly disgusted- and then turns around and starts walking again, zig zagging across the terrain. Stiles gives his own ass a low-five, and concentrates again on Derek’s ass as they move forward.

Damn, it really is a spectacular ass, and it’s great at any angle! For example, as they were walking, Stiles had to angle his eyes down, but now it was eye level and it’s even more glorious except that it’s getting further away and Stiles is now waist deep in the ground.

Wait, what?

“Umm… Derek?” Stiles says. He’s about to look around, but now Derek has turned around and now Stiles is eye level with his crotch so all of his energy is being used to not lick his lips. He’s not at all worried about why he’s halfway into the ground, except that he is- worried that is, about being halfway into the- wait, what the fuck?

“Derek, m’stuck!” he whines, his arms hovering in the air on the side of him. Stiles wants to reach down and see if his hand will maybe get stuck? Wait, is he really stuck or is he just scared? What is happening?

“Stiles? What… how? Are you…” Derek approaches him slowly, trying to figure out why the torso and up of his partner is all he can see and as he gets closer the wind changes direction again. This time Derek growls fully and his eyes flash red. Stiles meeps and gulps and then he falls.

“Stiles!” is the last thing he hears before falling a good 25 feet to the groudd. He lands _hard_ , but he’s okay. He stands, checks himself over and then notices a slight incline that gives way to the pretty formidable drop. He can see an anchor point near the ledge and surmises maybe there’s usually a rope or something.

“Shit, this is a lot of trouble for an underground meth lab.” Stiles says to himself as he looks further into the cavern. It’s outfitted with what seem to be motion censored storm lights. Stiles whistles. “Get down here, Hale! Looks like we may have hit the jackpot!” He notices it’s cooler down in the cellar and his fever has abated a little thanks to the distraction. A few seconds later, Derek hops down elegantly and effortlessly and Stiles can’t help but love him and hate him in equal amounts.

Derek nods his head down the corridor.

“You think they’re cooking down there.”

“They’re doing something fucked up if they’re going to all this trouble to hide it.” Stiles unstraps his gun and starts walking slowly down the corridor, staying close to the wall, “Only one way to find out.”

Derek follows closely behind and they go until they reach the end of the tunnel. They thought the canal was strange on its own, but what they saw at the end was only stranger.

A room. Well, first, a wall. Seemingly made of tempered glass that showed the inside of a medicinal looking room. Fluorescent lights illuminated the area well and there were all sorts of machines and equipment.

“This is definitely a lab, right?” Stiles asks quietly. Derek nods, though he scrunches his nose, unsure.

“I guess, maybe, but… doesn’t that look like an ultrasound machine?” he says, motioning to a grouping of machines next to a padded exam table. Stiles sighs, and asks the inevitable.

“So, we going in?” He motions towards a door that’s set off to the side of the glass. It looks sturdy and reinforced. Derek sighs.

“I guess, or… we could just call for backup?”

Stiles thinks about the prospect of even more people being there and his heat flaring again and quickly shakes his head.

“No Der, it’s gonna to take an hour for them just to get here and we’re both capable. Let’s just go in, investigate, and report back, okay?” Stiles insists even though Derek looks skeptical, “C’mon Hale, I really need to get home-”

“Yes, your vacation, I know. You know, I’m really trying not to question it, Stiles, because I get it, but is it really this important?”

Stiles wipes a bit of sweat from his brow, “Dude, I… I have a lot to explain to you when I get back, but I promise… okay? Just trust me?”

Derek looks deeply into Stiles’ eyes with a look that could only be described as… well, it couldn’t be described according to Stiles, not without x-rated visual aides. He nods slowly and wipes his thumb across Stiles’ upper lip. He’s starting to growl again and Stiles knows he’s gotta get out of there.

“I got your back and you’ve got mine, right?”

Derek nearly startles, as though being shaken from his reverie, and clears his throat, “uhh yeah, through any and everything. For always.”

“For always, Hale?” Stiles teases with a smirk. Derek rolls his eyes and motions to the door.

“Shut up and let’s go in.”

They go in and discover the medical area (which also has all sorts of medical supplies, beakers, medicines and even more machines to measure heart rate and other functions) is the front area of a much larger space that expands further into the cavern. Derek heads down the hall to the left and finds a fully stocked kitchen with fresh food and water in a fridge as well as a plethora of canned and boxed goods.

Stiles goes to the right and sees a bathroom with a huge shower, and a bedroom outfitted with a large king-sized bed.

“Clear… I guess?” He says, confused as he heads back towards the main room. Derek is already there going through the medicine. He sighs.

“What’s up, Hale? You got any idea as to what the fuck this is?”

Derek nods, “Yeah… a lot of fuckin’ paperwork.”

Stiles could cry. This was going to take forever and he didn’t even trust himself to hold a pen without trying to shove it up his ass.

“Why would meth tweakers have this? Shit, Der, there were multiple sheet sets, a ton of towels!”

“The pantry is full, the fridge has fresh fruit and veggies, Stiles. Whoever is here is planning to be hidden for a very long time.”

“I gotta get out of here.”

“Yeah, we should probably get upstairs.”

“No, Derek-” Stiles’ head feels like it’s spinning as another wave of his heat begins to crest, “I gotta fucking get out of here.”

“I know, don’t worry. Look, let’s just take some pictures and then we can go.”

“No, I mean, I can’t stay down here, because I… I _need_ and Derek, you look so fucking tasty, and I’m sorry that I can’t explain that, but I need to get out of this crazy assed Trading Places Heidi-home that looks like some sort of Clockwork Orange Glam Bunker where someone can stay for fucking months!” Stiles exhales and then inhales and suddenly Derek’s scent, which he hadn’t even noticed until that moment, hits him like a brick in the face. And he wants it again.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Six months to be exact.”

“What? What happened to your voice?”

Derek looks at Stiles strangely. He’s swaying and his eyes look like a fucked up traffic light.

“WHY ARE YOUR EYES FLASHING?!?” Stiles says at a perfectly normal volume, but Derek disagrees as he puts his hands over his ears and growls.

“Nothing happened to my voice! You rambled about nonsense and then you said ‘ _six months_ ’!”

“I didn’t say ‘ _six months_ ’, you said ‘ _six months_ ’!”

“No, I didn’t! And stop yelling at me!”

“I said six months, boys.”

Stiles looks at Derek and Derek looks at Stiles and then they both looks towards the glass and see Tamora Monroe standing deviously on the other side.

They both draw their guns.

***

“Don’t bother boys, it’s bulletproof.” Disgraced Former Mayer Tamora Monroe stands on the other side of the glass smugly watching the two officers fall apart in front of her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead!!” Stiles yells, standing with his arms out, gun aimed at the glass. He knows it shooting be idiotic and probably careen off the glass hitting him or Derek in the process, but fucking _dammit_ all of this bullshit was to trap him? And for what? Why?! And wasn’t she _dead_?!

“I see your eyes screaming at me, Sergeant. And I can see the Lieutenant can’t shut off the light show.” Tamora says completely undisturbed.

Stiles chances a glance at Derek whose jaw is clenching so hard it looks like it may break and his eyes are pulsating blood red. He looks nearly feral, having ran his hands through his hair several times and it was clear he’d skipped shaving that morning. Fuck, Stiles wanted that stubble between his legs, directly on his leaking asshole which…. _shit_!

Stiles squirms as he feels liquid start to smear around his hole and between his cheeks. The cheeks on his face blaze red. Derek looks at him incredulously like not only can he somehow tell, but how _dare_ Stiles do this in here of all places and _now_ of all times!?

“You have the right to remain silent!” Stiles screams for lack of anything better to do or say in lieu of just dying on the spot. Tamora laughs and steps forward. She drags her nail along the glass and the sound somehow seems to tear through both of the men.

“Well isn’t this a sight?” Tamora says, shocking the men back to attention. She looks between them with mean, calculating eyes, “Two of Beacon’s finest, felled by their own biology. You see why it’s imperative that what’s going to happen, has to happen, right?”

“What does that even mean?!” Stiles spits out. “That sentence makes no sense, none of this makes any fucking sense!” he shakily uses his forearm to wipe the sweat from his face. At this point it’s dangerous to still have his gun out since his vision is slightly blurred. Felled by his biology was fucking right, what the hell was he going to do? Or Derek! Where is Derek?

Stiles looks to his right, but he’s not there, maybe he’s trying to make it to the door? The door!

Stiles points his gun at the door for some reason he can't possibly fathom and Tamora just laughs as it slides shut, locking into place.

“Fuck!” Stiles screams. Tamora laughs.

“This is even better than I imagined! When he told me the plan I thought there was no way it could possibly work. Take down the werewolf and the omega spark? But look at you, you damned well did it for me. I probably didn’t even need to have those foagies douse you with the purple haze, but the old man insisted. Said there’d be hell to pay if they didn’t get something from you at the peak of your fever.”

“My heat.” Stiles says, arm still out, yet completely defeated.

“Fuck, is that why you smell like this? What fucking are you, Stiles?” A wild Derek appears behind Stiles, wrapping his arms around the young man and gliding his hand down Stiles’ arm until they’re both supporting the gun. Derek tucks his nose into Stiles’ neck causing the officer to moan and run a rogue hand through the Lieutenant’s hair, both pulling and pushing him in closer. Stiles rears back and feels Derek’s hardness against the crack of his ass which is akin to a fucking bubbling cauldron at this point. Stiles feels so good, so right, he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Except one.

“Hale, wait, stop.”

“No bother, Stiles.” Monroe says cheekily. “Feel free to start, I don’t want to actually hurt or kill you… well, I do, but those aren’t my orders in this thing where you’re concerned. We just needed you out of the way. So stay here and enjoy the accommodations and someone will come and check on you in a few days. You’re doing good work, boys. Don’t fret.” Tamora sniggles a bit to herself as she watches the men melt into each other in front of her. Knowing neither one has heard a word she’s said, she turns and heads back down the corridor. As she passes certain sections, a giant steel wall slides into place until she reaches the entrance where there’s now a rope ladder hanging down. She watches as the last of seven steel walls locks into place and grins to herself as she climbs out of the cellar.

Outside, her men are hot wiring Derek and Stiles’ cars and parking them deep into the woods in the other direction using a map given to them by the old man. They get into Tamora’s car and drive towards the meetup.

Back in the bunker, Derek has Stiles pushed up against a wall with his legs wrapped around Derek’s waist. Derek is crushing Stiles, making it hard for him to breathe, and Stiles is fucking _letting him_.

“Uggh, _fuck_ , Der, hold on, wait, please! I’m so sorry and I don’t want you to s- _stop_ , but I need you to STOP!”

At the urgency in Stiles’ voice, Derek brings his head out from where it was planted in Stiles’ neck, sucking at the boy’s sensitive skin. He lets Stiles down who continues sliding down the glass until he’s in contact with the blessedly cool floor. Derek walks in laps around the large area. After two he points at Stiles.

“Explain.” he demands, his voice nearly animal. It flicks a switch inside of Stiles and makes him feel compelled to answer, like he might not live if he doesn’t.

“Omega.” Is all he can really think of to say. And honestly, at this point he hopes it’s enough. It seems to be since Derek is nodding, albeit maniacally.

“An omega? Yeah?” He raises his brows in question and points at Stiles again who is slumped on the floor. He can feel a wet spot beginning to form in the back of his pants. “An omega, and I’m an alpha, because of fucking course I am. And you’re an omega in heat and I’m an alpha who goes into ruts around omegas in heat, because of _FUCKING COURSE!”_

“Der, no!” Stiles pleads, suddenly distressed that his alpha is discontent. Wait, _his alpha_? Before he can fully consider that thought, Derek is nearly in his lap, holding him and licking his cheek, his temple, his neck, and petting him with a soothing rumble. It’s so tender, Stiles begins to cry.

“ _Shh…_. it’s okay, I’m here ma- my, uhh, _friend_ , I’m here.” Stiles nods and clings to Derek, inhaling his scent which is something new to him entirely. It’s not sweat or even really an odor, it’s more like a pheromone, or a beacon. It’s something that sings to him and tells him everything is going to be okay. He’s been on stakeouts in a stale car for hours at a time with Derek and he’s never smelled anything like this.

“How?” is all he can say, and again it seems to be enough for Derek.

“Stiles, I’m a werewolf, a supernatural, and apparently you’re an omega though I get the impression you don’t fully get what that means. We can discuss it later, but first… your heat is here, sweetheart. I need to know right now, Stiles, do you want me to help you through it? You can manage on your own and I’ll lock myself in the fucking freezer if I have to, but if you want me to help you, it will be shorter and you’ll come back sooner.”

And for a moment Stiles wonders if that was a good thing? Did he want less time with Derek? Wait, did Derek just offer to fuck him?

“Did you just offer to fuck me?” Stiles stares at the newly minted wolf with wide, prey-like eyes.

“To do what’s necessary to get you through-”

“ _YES_!”

“-your heat.”

“Yes! Oh my god, get in me right now!”

“Stiles, wait, this is serious!” Derek protests as Stiles has torn off his own shirt and is clawing at Derek’s. Finally, Derek grabs both of his wrists and holds them to his chest.

“Stiles!” he says, flashing his eyes. Stiles groans, both loving and loathing the gesture. “I need you to consent, to say it’s ok. That I can knot you?”

“Knot me? Like a do- oh my god, like a _wolf_.”

“Like me, a werewolf, who has a knot.”

“Wait, you just like, have a knot? Always? I’m sorry I’m asking so many questions.”

“I’d be scared shitless if you weren’t, Stiles. Ask as many as you need, I need to know you’re okay with this.”

“But.. can I take your knot?”

“I won’t fully know until I t- _touch_ you, b- but you’re my-” Derek closes his eyes and inhales deeply, “ _-an_ omega. You were m-made for this.” Stiles watches Derek as he struggles to keep it together. His grip is surprisingly light on Stiles’s wrists, but he’s got his head back against the glass and his eyes still screwed shut. Stiles knew then what he probably always knew.

“I want it to be you, and I want you in me right _fucking no-_ ” Before the sentence is finished, Derek is on his feet with Stiles slung over his shoulder. Derek seems to know exactly where to go, finding the bedroom with the king sized bed. He throws Stiles on the mattress and strips off his own shirt. Then he goes… for the nightstand? Stiles gawps.

“I’m over here, Hale! Laid out on a fucking Egyptian cotton platter, what the fuck are you doing?!”

Derek grunts like the sexy prehistoric cavewolf Stiles knows he secretly is and starts opening drawers. There are several sex toys which Derek seems to consider, and then discard or keep depending on which ones end up on the bed and which end up on the floor. Stiles considers the extra large silicone buttplug and can’t help but shudder.

“ _Kinkywolf…_ ” he whispers as Derek pulls open another drawers and takes out lubes and protective wrap for the toys.

“Whoever did this. They knew. They prepared for heat. Yours.” _Fuck_ , semi-verbal, growly Derek was working for Stiles as he admired the way the wolf… the _werewolf_ tried to hold it together to make sure Stiles was okay. Damn, Stiles wish he could pay him back. Derek is about to see how much of a responsibility Stiles’ heats are when you’re the party not in heat. It’s kind of like being the designated driver for yourself and your drunk friend and then when you try to call Uber you can’t because your friend puked on your phone when it fell into the toilet and-

“Stay! Soon!” Stiles reels and suddenly he’s on his back being pushed into the mattress by Derek’s wide palm across his chest. He hadn’t even realized he’d been moving. Derek’s other hand comes up slowly, stroking Stiles’ cheek with a gentle touch, edged off by a sharp claw. Stiles inhales sharply and nods allow Derek’s red eyes to recede and seemingly satisfied he grunts once and sits back on the other side of the bed doing… something.

Stiles watches as Derek tears off a piece of plastic wrap with his claw and wraps it smoothly around a dildo before placing it gently on the pillow beside Stiles’s head. Stiles wonders.

“There aren’t any condoms are there? Are you supposed to Saran Wrap your dick?” Stiles says, wanting to do _something_. His heat is slightly abated, almost like it’s paused and that makes him wonder how he’s so lucid. He can figure it out later, but he’s never really been present during his heats. Maybe he should get naked? Derek would like that, right?

Stiles shimmies out of his pants, thankful to have the scratchy fabric off of his sensitive skin. Derek, whose back is to Stiles, tenses and sniffs the air, looking behind him. Stiles tries to wriggle out of his shirt and now it’s stuck around his arms above his head. Derek huffs and goes back to his task.

“Derek, I’m stuck!” Stiles whines, but can finally breathe air as his head pops through the neck hole. He’s exhausted, he’ll deal with the rest in a minute. “So I know you’re a werewolf and you can’t catch, carry or transmit diseases, right? And outside of some minor league college shit and resigning myself to hashtag forever alone, I’m clean as a whistle. So… shit, my first heat with another person and we’re gonna raw-wolf it? Is that awesome or terrifying?”

Derek let’s out a disturbing huff and looks at Stiles drolly.

“It’s my heat talking! Don’t be such a sour wolf, Derek! You wouldn’t have to listen to my insane ramblings if you’d just come on and fuck me! And god, please come on because I can feel the heat starting to, oh my god!” Stiles looks down and his erection is angrily tenting his briefs. Shit, why hadn’t he worn his sexy boxer briefs? At least these didn’t have holes in them. He musters up the strength to roll on his stomach and attempts to scooch himself back up the bed. On his way, he rediscovers the long lost art of dry humping the mattress and he can’t believe he’d ever forgotten how fucking delicious it felt. The fabric gently massaging the underside of his dick, the head getting caught in the waistband and gliding against the silk blend of the duvet. Man, Stiles thinks whomever didn’t think to scotchguard the comforter was an idiot, but his cock head is grateful. He’s gonna _ruin_ this shit tho-

Before Stiles’ thought can complete, Derek is turning him over again and roars loudly in his face. Stiles gasps, again loving and hating the gesture. On one hand he hates being a slave to his own biology during this time so he sure as hell hates being one to anyone else’s. On the other hand, if that anyone else is Derek ‘ _you’re my omega_ ’ (damn right Stiles didn’t miss that shit) Hale with deep alpha red eyes and those pink ass nipples, then give Stiles a one way ticket because he is on board. And shit that kind of scares him… but it also turns him on!?!

“What the fuck, dude?! What’d I do?”

Derek bends down and licks Stiles’ cheek.

“I need you cum.”

“You need me cum?” Stiles asks, completely confused, yet so far past caring. If he can figure out what that means, he’ll do it, fuck.

Derek sits all the way up to his knees and unbuckles his pants. Stiles watches wide eyed, just seeming to realize that although he was mostly naked and his cockhead was peeking out of the band of his briefs and his balls were hanging out of the leg, Derek still very much had his pants on. Well, until now. In one, ridiculously gymnastic move Derek jumps up to his feet, jumps again ripping off his jeans and boxer briefs, and then lands on his knees, his dick bobbing in reaction and laying erect and rigid pointing towards Stiles.

“What kind of _Cirque du Soleil_ shit was that? Fuck, I need to cum- _oh_!” Stiles says, finally understanding what Derek was trying to say. Derek smiles, his mouth full of fangs and nods, backing off the bed until he’s standing up. He reaches forward and gently eases Stiles’ underwear off before sniffing them deeply, especially the seat which is soaked with slick. Stiles isn’t lucid enough to be embarrassed. He can only smile stupidly as he watches Derek rub the underwear into his crotch and under his arms before tossing the fabric away.

It shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was, but Stiles was overheated with a leaking front and back and now the only thing he wanted to do was cum so he could get fucked.

“Der, please! C’mon wolf, please make me cum, or I’ll do… I can do it-” Stiles tries to reach for his erection but Derek slaps his hand away as Stiles pouts.

“No! Alpha.” Derek says as an order though Stiles can’t fully comprehend how to follow it. He wants to so badly.

“Alpha? What does that-”

“Yes. Alpha. You omega. Alpha.” on the last _‘Alpha’_ Derek points to himself. Stiles gets it.

“C’mon, Alpha, make me cum. Make _your_ omega cu- ohh!” Stiles yelps as Derek grabs Stiles’ foot and bites the arch with human teeth, _hard_! “What the fu- _uuugh_!?” Stiles cums immediately, rope after rope of cum strips itself from his body as his can feel his ass walls clenching in orgasm. Outside of his heat he can fuck himself and massage his prostate just for fun, but in heat his ass basically becomes a vagina and that shit is explosive. Stiles keeps coming long after the last stream of cum is out and Derek licks at him gently as he comes down. He then stands up and strips himself quickly, spending on Stiles’ chest, neck, face and hair. Stiles looks at him sleepily, sure he’s got his dreamy, gauzy, post sex face happening and Derek seems to be pleased.

“That was to take the edge off.” He says, as grammatically coherent as he’s been in a while. “Now we get you ready for my knot.”

Stiles groans and rolls to his side, but this is a good groan as he finally figures out why he’s been able to be a little more clear headed this time around. He can feel it click into place like the last number in a combination. He’s about to get _wrecked_ and his body knows it.

He watches as Derek prowls to the other side of the bed behind him and kneels down just behind his ass. He reaches forward and lifts Stiles’ butt cheek, exposing the bubbling inferno to the room. Derek blows on it lightly, chuckling as Stiles whines slightly, moving forward on his stomach and thrusting his ass into the air, both trying to get away from Derek’s assault, and presenting himself for Derek’s conquest. Derek grins at him, hushing him sweetly and stroking long lines down his back, ending each lap with a squeeze of Stiles’ ass.

“Alpha,” Stiles says softly, his face smooshed into the mattress, looking at Derek with wide, doe like eyes, so blackened with lust and ringed in an oaky amber haze. “ _Please_.”

Not one to deny his… _the_ omega for long. Derek climbs on the bed between Stiles’ legs and leans over, pressing his tongue directly to Stiles’ seeping hole.

“Oh my g-” Stiles yelps, his heat addled mind giving over to pleasure. He allows himself to flop forward and just fucking _take_ it as Derek makes out with his insides.

He can can feel the roughness of Derek’s tongue become slimy with his slick as Derek fucks Stiles’ tight, hole with his mouth. He’s made a thousand surrenders since this began and he’s determined to make a thousand more as he wills his body to open up for the wolf, to become his and every-fucking-thing that entails.

Derek lets out a playful growl as he runs his stubble along Stiles’ rim, and pulls back, watching the skin grow puffy, red and irritated. He spits on Stiles’ hole and massages it with his thumb before lodging it there and pushing the rip in ever so slightly.

“ _Alpha._ ” Stiles says shallowly, barely able to even see the beast that has him in such a predicament. Derek takes a moment to pry his eyes from his art and he looks at Stiles, his eyes a steady, bloody alpha red. “Alpha… _please_. Need you.” the boy whines. He can’t move, wouldn’t even if he could. He can’t think of anywhere else he’d like to be though he can think of one place in particular that Derek’s knot should be this instant.

Derek opens his legs far and points at Stiles with an extended claw, “Mine!” He says confidently with a flash of his eyes. “I take care of you! I’m alpha!” he seethes, calmly, but so full of determination that Stiles can feel it in his taint. He nods his head as much as he can against the duvet.

“I’m yours, you’re mine, knot me, my alpha, please!” Somewhere deep in the non-heat wrangled recesses of his brain, Stiles knows these statements are a) driven by instinct and b) the beginning of a long overdue heart to heart between the two, but at the moment? Stiles is fine. He’s willing to say what it takes to get Derek inside of him. He’s read a couple of things about Alphas and he’s sure he can put his mouth to good use if Derek won’t.

“Alpha, please, fuck me! Knot me! Mate me!” At _‘mate me’_ Derek’s head shoots back up from where it’d been laving the underside of Stiles balls and he roars, causing Stiles to nearly shake apart from his very core. Shit, maybe he overstepped a bit? Thankfully, Derek doesn’t seem to think so as he needlessly grabs the lube and just squirts a long stream on his dick. He then positions his head to Stiles’ burbling hole and rears up on his knees before basically falling into Stiles smoothly all the way to the base.

If Stiles could have screamed he would have. But the force of having this larger man essentially fall into him has knocked his wind out in the best possible way. Stiles had never really considered Derek’s size before. They were close to the same height and at the shoulders, Stiles was even slightly more broad. But as Derek lay on top of Stiles now, he could feel every inch of the man that eclipsed him.

Derek’s neck was wide and wily as it wrapped Derek’s head around to Stiles’ mouth, allowing the wolf to tongue fuck him to the same rhythm of his cock pistoning in and out of Stiles’ ass.

Where Stiles tapers off in his mid section, Derek’s is sure and thick like a mighty oak and Stiles relishes in it as he grabs behind himself and uses Derek’s sides to anchor to anything in his ever-shifting world. Derek’s ass? Well, shit. Stiles’ couldn’t even comprehend what he was grabbing and squeezing as it thrust in and out of him, but his mind supplied that the grabbing on was probably going to be in the top ten decisions he’d make in his life. Stiles can see the list now:

Going to College and graduating in three years

Saying yes when Derek asked to service his heat

Grabbing that ass

Stiles was trying to think of the rest of the list -anything to really keep this heat as extended as possible- he’s never really had to worry about his stamina in the past since the goal for him was to cum as much as he could until he passed out. This Derek thing though, and more than just the Derek thing that was currently disrespecting his ass lining, made Stiles feel comfort and pleasure in a way he was never sure was possible. The idea of truly enjoying his heat, and not just ironically and not just for the reshapen stories he’d tell at the precinct about some madcap hookup that was in fact him and whatever character happened to be on the TV while he was fucking himself, was brand new to Stiles.

And he think he likes it.

Derek’s pace slows slightly and he begins moving his hips in different ways and angles, like he’s on a exploratory missing to plunge the depths of Stiles’ a-

“Oh my god! Right there! Fucking hell, Derek, do that again!” Stiles screams, his voice finally returning as Derek’s cock directly grazes his prostate.

Scratch that _‘thinks he likes it’_ bullshit, he fucking _loves_ it, and fuck, he thinks he loves Derek too, but he’ll have to think about that when all of this is finished. Or possibly in that moment since the overwhelming feelings of affection only seem to ramp up his attraction as evidenced by the gush of slick that squeezes its way around Derek’s dick and adds a messy wetness to the slaps of Derek’s thighs on Stiles’. Stiles will allow himself the indulgence, as long as he doesn’t say it outloud he should be-

“You son of a literal bitch, I love you so fucking much!” Stiles declares unabashedly. Shit, he’ll… they’ll just have to talk about it later Stiles is sure Derek understands that what’s said in the heat of the… well, _heat_ , stays in the heat, right? Besides, he isn’t entirely sure Derek heard him, since all Derek does is laugh, raise to his knees and then grab Stiles by the haunches before launching a full assault on his newly discovered path.

The werewolf bastard -as Stiles has taken to calling him him (albeit lovingly) inside his head and loudly out of his mouth- takes everything he has and puts it into Stiles’ prostate. Every single fucking thing he has and he plants it in Stiles’ prostate every single fucking time! He feels himself starting to go from the lazy half chub he’d had to a full on raging boner as Derek continues to plunder Stiles’ booty. He curses wildly as Derek leans over him again and licks the assholes, the bitches, the shits, and the motherfuckers directly from his mouth before tangling his hand through Stiles’ hair and pressing his face even deeper into the mattress below them. Derek has had a pretty stable purr through his body since this whole thing had started, but it was ramping up into a rumble as Stiles could feel his own body shake with the force of Derek’s vibrations on top of him.

“Gonna… gonna knot, Stiles. _Fuck_!” he yells inelegantly as he slows his strokes and buries his head in Stiles’ nape, trying valiantly to catch his breath in times such as these. “Gotta, make you cum one more time.”

Stiles knows that if he comes again, he’s going to pass out and he wants to experience every bit of this fucking knot so he shakes his head. Well, at least tries to as Derek still has it pinned into the mattress by his forearm.

“Der no! Please, alpha, want to feel-” Derek’s fingers slip into Stiles’ mouth and Stiles sucks on them instinctively, carelly running his tongue along the wolf’s extended claws. He tastes everything on Derek’s fingers and even though he knows it’s mostly parts of him he can’t even fucking see, he still sucks, savoring the essence of the two and thinking that it’s just as he thought it would be: gross and perfect.

Stiles was sure that Derek’s heat addled brain told him this was a good idea to shut Stiles up so he could make sure the path was good for Derek’s knot, but apparently a larger part of that plan depended on Derek being lucid and not stuck in a long repressed fantasy where Stiles treated two of his fingers like bomb pops. Derek cowers a little, like he’s about to run away whether his dick is with him or not, but then he settles and gives one last thrust before embedding himself firmly in Stiles’ ass.

Stiles gasps as he feels Derek’s knot expand slowly and hotly inside of him. The temperature makes Stiles think of those old stones they used to warm and wrap in heavy blankets to keep the kids’ feet warm. He’s not sure why that thought comes to mind, he just knows he doesn’t want to cum yet. He doesn’t want to miss a single second of this expanding behemoth that’s filling up inside of him, hell, _because_ of him. He grins wildly around Derek’s fingers as Derek begins licking long stripes up Stiles’ throat and face.

Stiles sighs as the knot finishes forming. It’s big and intrusive and a pulsating fire that ignites every nerve inside of him. He’s a goner, he can feel it, and it becomes true as stream after stream of cum rips itself from his body and smears between the apparently waterproof duvet and his stomach,

The sounds he makes as Derek’s knot begins filling him with searing cum are unholy and thus he must rest and atone. He does so gladly, knowing that even though he’s falling helplessly yet willingly into the dark, dangling only by a tether that’s anchored in Derek’s knot, that the light will come again, and bring him home.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles wakes up what could be days, hours, or mere seconds later.

“Just a couple of hours. Don’t try to move, I’ve cleaned you off a bit and got you off of the soiled cover. There’s some fruit beside you, try to eat a little.” Derek says softly as he sits on the side of the bed, still naked and lightly petting Stiles’ face.

Stiles blows his cheeks out as he eyes the fruit hungrily. It’s in his eyeline but it seems _sooo_ far away. He looks at Derek pathetically causing the wolf to chuckle a little and pick up a piece of strawberry, holding it to Stiles’ mouth. Stiles sucks on it greedily, happily lapping at Derek’s fingers in the process.

“Who’s the wolfcub now?” Derek asks cheekily, as he rubs his thumb up and down Stiles’ throat, stroking his pulsepoint. Stiles is about to inhale a piece of pineapple when he stops and blanches.

“Oh my fucking- did I call you that?” Stiles asks, trying to remember and then remembering vividly, and then trying to forget.

“You told me I was fucking you like a wolfcub, but you needed it like a wolfman.” Derek explains with a straight face though Stiles can see the laughter in his eyes. Stiles groans.

“Whatever, what’s said in heat stays in heat, but seriously dude, please. I just need you to reassure me that at no point did I call you _daddy_?” Stiles asks, knowing the question is fruitless when Derek can’t even stop the smirk from gracing his stupid face.

“I promised myself I would always be honest with you, Stiles….”

“Oh fuck me!” Yelping, Stiles tries to bury his head back in the blankets but thinks better of it before opening his mouth for more of whatever Derek wants to put in it. Stiles can see a light behind Derek’s eyes that indicates it’s more than just fruits, but he settles on a piece of kiwi. He squeezes the back of Stiles’ neck causing the young man to relax as he eats the hydrating fruit.

“I have some good news and some bad news.” Derek starts, smoothing long lines up and down Stiles’ spine. Normally Stiles is extremely sensitive during his heat, but something about Derek’s touch soothes him.

“Hit me, Lieu.” Stiles keens happily as Derek feeds him some grapes.

“Well, the good news is because I was here this heat will be a little less intense. I’m guessing we’ll only need to knot a few more times before it’s over. Maybe just another day or so?”

“No!” Stiles says forlornly, wishing there was a way to elongate their time together. He hadn’t realized how desperate he sounded until Derek leaned over and licked some fruit juice from the side of Stiles’ mouth.

“That leads me to the bad news.” Derek says softly, sniffing at Stiles’ neck and kissing lightly up his jaw. Stiles feels his body start to stir again.

“That wasn’t the bad news? That was terrible!” The young man hisses out, as he feels his toes tingle and a slight thrill run up his calves and the back of his thighs, nesting in the font of his arousal.

“I know what’s said in heat, stays in heat, but… we both said a lot of things that we should talk about later.”

“Was this about when I told you I wanted you to sit on my dick? Are you not into verse omegas because I didn’t even know that was a thing that existed, but now that it does, how fucking dare-”

“It’s about when you said you loved me.”

“Oh.” Stiles says, resigned. It’s not like he can do anymore besides blush and he already feels the heat start to flush his body.

“Yeah.” Derek’s face is unreadable but mostly because Stiles can’t really stare at it that long. He’d wanted to tell Derek how he felt before this all started and he’d hoped Derek felt the same, but if he didn’t then why was he here?

Stiles tries his best to explain, “Well, I mean, it was the moment of heat and you’re taking such good care of me so maybe it’s my instincts and-”

“Stiles, I said it too.” Stiles looks into the truth of Derek’s eyes and sighs, relieved. He reaches up and pets Derek’s stubble as the wolf continues talking, “and I didn’t just say it _back_ , I said it a lot, even when you were asleep and I was still coming. And it felt so right and so pure. I know we shouldn't take things at face value during heat, well, that’s what I’ve been told at least, but… I think… I _know_ I have feelings for you outside of this. And if it’s love, then… I want to explore that. And I want to figure out how you feel too.”

“Fuck, Derek, I’m so sorry.” Stiles’ realizes he heard none of that, but the word ‘love’ over and over and it made him hot and feverish. His thighs were quivery and he could feel a trickle of sweat drop down his forehead. Derek had been looking away and didn’t seem to notice the change immediately.

“What? Oh… do you, do you not feel the same, well, I mean, of course that’s okay, you don’t have to feel any specific way I just thought-”

“Fuck me!” Stiles yells, finally getting the wolf’s attention.

“What?” Derek asks, when his eyes connect with Stiles they widen and he instantly goes into alpha mode, standing up quickly and ripping the sheet from Stiles’ body, replacing it with himself. Stiles grasps at his shoulders.

“Derek, I need you inside of me right fucking now. I’m sorry I can’t be serious when you laid out your heart like that, but I need-”

“Shit, Stiles! Yeah, of course, we’ll talk, we’ll figure it out later-”

“Derek!” Stiles digs his nails into Derek’s biceps and locks his ankles around Derek’s back, pinning the man to him.

“Fuck, I’m here, I’m here, hold on!”

Derek squeezes a hand between the two men and pumps his cock twice before sliding into Stiles’ slick covered hole. Stiles lets out a gasp and loosens his grip on Derek, allowing himself to lie back with his arms to his side as Derek sits up, grabs Stiles’ slippery hips and begins fucking him soundly.

“Yes, Der, ooh so good! I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby!” Derek says, head back as he creates good rhythm. Stiles chuckles.

“Kiss me, Der.” Derek bends over and is about to kiss Stiles when he stops short, his eyes a steady alpha red.

“What? Wazzit?” Stiles says, making kissy faces, still euphoric and wanting. Derek grins.

“You’re eyes. They’re purple. A deep royal, omega purple. And it’s beautiful, just like you.”

Shit that was so sweet! Stiles loves Derek so much and he makes him so happy and he feels so good. He should tell Derek.

“Uh huh.” Stiles nods satisfied and Derek looks pleased as his knot fills and his cum begins to fill his mate to overflowing.

Securing Stiles’ thighs tightly around him, Derek gathers the rest of the man into his arms allowing Stiles to settle in his lap. It’s not the most comfortable position for Derek since he has nothing to lean back on, but anything for Stiles is his justification and he couldn’t be happier.

Stiles rests with his arms around Derek’s neck and his nose tucked lightly behind Derek’s ear. He flicks his tongue out periodically to catch a bead of sweat as it trickles down Derek’s neck and Derek’s purrs, gyrating his hips and massaging Stiles’ insides. Derek gives one more push and Stiles groans salaciously, his orgasm hitting him hard like a rogue wave. It crests on him over and over, ripping smoothly through his body and only then does he realize he has his teeth implanted into Derek’s shoulder.

Blood is drawn and Stiles pulls back slightly, enthralled and confused by the urge to lick the wound. He doesn’t get a chance as it closes up quickly. Derek, breathing heavily, must see the disappointment on his face and kisses him sweetly on the bridge of his nose.

“We need to talk first, maybe next time. For now, sleep.”

As though it’s a command of his alpha, Stiles obeys and allows the slumber to take him once more.

This time when he wakes up he is laid out on the mattress and he sees a shock of black hair between his legs. A second later he feels a tongue laving his rim. It’s a bit concerning to him that he just shrugs and decides to go with it, but what’s more interesting is the fact he’s so damned lucid. He doesn’t remember much, but he knows at this point in his heats normally he’s an absolute fucking mess who is often bestowed the blessing of selective amnesia.

This time he can see, talk, hear and feel and sometimes things go a little south, but he doesn’t feel completely disconnected from himself, and even better he doesn’t want to be. He wants to be able to have Derek’s fingerprints embedded into his skin, he wants to be able to count Derek’s tastebuds with his asshole. He wants to… he wants to bite this man, to leave his mark on him and vice versa. Stiles isn’t a wolf, but it doesn’t stop the growl from escaping his chest.

Derek, whose hair Stiles’ fingers are tangled in, looks up from his treat and considers the boy, purring back in almost a reply. Stiles licks his bottom lip and Derek leaps up his body, kissing the young man’s sounds, trading the essence of the men between them.

“I feel more clear headed than I ever have.” Stiles says as Derek purrs into his neck. He runs his hands up and down the wolf, squeezing at every spot he can.

“Yeah, it’s better with a partner, yeah?” Derek asks, his nods tickling Stiles’ throat with his stubble. Stiles is giddy and slaps Derek’s cheek lightly.

“Yeah.”

Derek kisses him slowly and deeply, gauging the heat in Stiles’ mouth and seemingly comparing it with the rest of his body, if the way his hands are roaming are any indication. “Shouldn’t be long now, I’m guessing we’ll knot about one or two more times and the heat should break.”

“Sounds good, Lieu, go ahead and break me.” Stiles yelps playfully as Derek nips at his chin and then flips him like a pancake until his ass is high in the air.

They knot 5 more times over the next two days. Derek does eventually sit his “bouncy ass” on Stiles’ dick after he complains that if he fucks Stiles anymore, his damned was going to fall off. He used the toys to keep Stiles full and fucked himself on the omega’s engorged dick. Stiles was just going to suggest a blowjob, but fell silent as he watched the alpha finger himself and lower smoothly onto Stiles perpetually hard dick.

“Fuuuuuck, you beautiful werebastard, omg I wanna have your babies, Derek!”

At this point Stiles didn’t care what he said, he was keeping Derek and never letting go.

***

For the first time since they got there, Stiles is awake and lucid. Derek is still a little worse for wear and whines cutely as Stiles uses his ass to play with the wolf’s knot.

“I feel like it’s a thighmaster for my ass. My inner ass is going to be buff as fuck, Der. Especially if I keep squeezing your dense ass medicine ball of a knot.” Stiles says, the sweetness of his tone belying his words as he pets Derek’s thighs.

“Two can play that game, Sergeant.” Derek smirks as he pushes his knot against Stiles’ prostate, causing a brave and valiant dribble of cum to leak from Stiles’ dick. He whines pitifully and tries to retaliate, but finds he likes it too much for it to be counted as revenge so he just lays back in Derek’s arms and they rest while they wait for the knot to go down.

They have a lot to talk about. The heat and every declaration that was said therein, included. But even outside of the heat, they’ve been willfully ignoring the 5 w’s of the bunker they’ve entrusted to carry them through this heat together.

Who led them here? Stiles slightly remembers that Tamora -who was fucking alive for some reason- kept mentioning another party. Why are they here? No idea. What are they supposed to do? Not a clue. Stiles can’t wrap his head around anything and for the first time hopes the knot goes down quickly so they can finally talk.

“Hey buddy, how much longer do you think we’ll be connected? We gotta figure this out and it would be better if we can both make sentences that weren’t interrupted by- _unngh_!” the comic irony is not lost on Stiles as Derek’s knot causes another ripple of orgasm to trail through him.

“S-sorry.” Derek hisses, his struggle not necessarily being the inability to hold it together, but rather, the fight between whether he should and if he really wants to, “Usually doesn’t last this long, but… you’re so _good_ , Stiles. You’re so fucking good!”

“Okay, feelings wolf, I get it, let’s just- we’re so close and I really wanna talk.”

Derek nods then swallows, “I know, it’s going down, slowly now, just a few more-”

“Hello, boys.” Derek’s head swings around as he pulls Stiles to him so tightly he can’t see who is at the door. He’d recognize that gnarled old voice anywhere. Derek roars.

“Easy there, you fucking animal!” Sheriff Gerard Argent yells, hauling some sort of souped up rifle at the two men. Stiles instinctively lets out a crowing like sound and suddenly his vision is blurred. He thinks his eyes may be flashing again though it’s never happened before this heat that he’s known of and he’s not sure how to react. Derek growls and turns with Stiles in his arms so he can face the threat, but also cover Stiles at the same time.

He leans over Stiles and Stiles can see the hair covering Derek’s arms and his claws elongate as Derek’s growls become snarls and slobber from where Derek’s fangs are extended drops down on Stiles’ forehead . If the situation weren’t so tense Stiles would have to have a long convo with himself about why this feral wolfed out version was working for him, but as with everything else it would have to wait.

Gerard rolls his eyes at the display and begins to raise his rifle (causing Stiles to wonder where the hell his and Derek’s were) when Tamora steps from behind him and lowers the gun.

“You can’t! If you tranq him now it will travel through his blood stream too fast and taint the sample.” She cautions, eyeing the wolf carefully. Derek looks dangerous and predatory, breathing heavily and growling aggressively at the pair. Gerard shakes his head.

“Dammit, Tamora, you said they’d be docile in the throes of heat. What the fuck is this?” Gerard sneers and spits, but doesn’t cross the threshold. Stiles takes a peek and sees a line of something like ash laid out. He wonders, but doesn’t focus on it too long as he doesn’t want to draw their attention.

“I don’t know, Gerard, isn’t this more your purview? You’re the one who proposed getting the samples during the heats. That their supernatural hormones would be at peak levels and we’d be able to manipulate it to create the solution, do you remember that, Gerard? You said nothing about rabid dogs!” Tamora walks away and Gerard yells after her.

“We’ve come too far to turn back now, Monroe! I did not bring you back from certain death just for you to- dammit get in there and get the fucking sample, where do you think you’re going!?” Gerard turns and heads towards her and before Stiles can process anything, Derek has him gathered up and carries him to the bathroom. Inside he closes and locks the door before sliding down the wall and collapsing in a heap with Stiles in his lap. He’s breathing heavily, nearly hyperventilating and finally throws his head back and lets out a howl that chills Stiles to his core.

Stiles whines and wraps himself around the wolf trying everything he can to comfort him. At some point Derek’s knot deflates and Stiles gently pulls off, standing on watery legs as he makes his way towards the door. Derek’s eyes are wild, but he’s determined as he puts himself in front of the door and shakes his head snarling.

“Hurt you!” He spits out, his fangs so elongated Stiles can tell it’s difficult for him to talk even though he’s trying so hard to explain.

“Derek we gotta figure out what’s going on. There was something on the ground at the door, they wouldn't come in the room and-”

“Mountain ash!” Derek grunts and his eyes beg with Stiles’ confused ones to just add it to the list. Stiles tries to let it go, but finally Derek concedes. “Toxic to us. No touch! No pass!”

Stiles nods, getting it and relieves Derek of trying to say more.

“Alright, we’re both officers and we’re a hell of a lot more competent that that bag of bones and his magic charcoal dust. The good news is these events have completely killed my heat and as soon as we get you back up and running we can do this thing right. Now babe, where the hell are our guns?”

“Babe?” Is the only thing Derek processes, which Stiles thinks is fair. The man is sitting naked in a heap of soiled sheets trying to get his bearings. Stiles shrugs, suddenly sheepish.

“Yeah, you said it to me during and… I don’t know, just trying it out. It’s a bit presumptuous I know, but I just thought-”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek wheezes as he pulls himself to his feet. Even though the sight is stunning -Stiles’ ass did _that_ \- he can’t help but feel a little sting. Derek glances at him and rolls his eyes.

He walks up to Stiles and kisses him silly, pushing him into the wall. His mouth tastes terrible and Stiles never wants it to end.

“I love you, and I’d rather not do the cute, awkward thing until we’re out of harm’s way, okay?”

Stiles nods as he sees the switch flip in Derek’s eyes. He’s no longer the incapacitated alpha, but the strong and sure Lieutenant that Stiles respects and hell… loves. And that fucking loves him back! Stiles saves his fist pump for later and follows Derek as he carefully opens the door.

They flock out into the room and stand there, listening as Tamora and Gerard argue.

“Just go in there and douse them, it won’t be enough to hurt either and it won’t taint the sample!”

“Why mwe? Why don’t you go in there with the rabid fucking bears, huh?”

“Tamora this is my plan and don’t you forget it. The only way this is going to work is-”

“Fine! Shut up and let’s go!”

Stiles looks at Derek with wide eyes, unsure of whether he should hide so he just flops to the floor and plays dead.

“Stiles, no!” Derek hisses, motioning at the officer to get up. He motions towards the nightstand, “Our guns!”

“Oh shit, yes!” Stiles is nearly giddy as he prances naked to the nightstand and pulls out his service pistol. He checks the safety on both and tosses Derek his before readying himself. Tamora is still looking behind herself and yelling at Gerard when she stops at the entrance. She turns and sees Stiles posed and ready to take her down. She startles,

“Oh shit!” She screams as she pitches a plastic baggie at Stiles, but it’s blocked by Derek’s chest who’s moved into the way.

It bounces retardedly to the floor and lays there in a heap. Tamora turns to Gerard enraged.

“It was supposed to explode!”

“You were supposed to shoot it!” Gerard says, pulling his rifle. Before he can even get it up, Stiles and Derek have both weapons readied and pointing at him.

“I’d rethink that if I were you, Sheriff.” Derek says as he stares Gerard down. Tamora has both hands in the air as Stiles inches towards the baggie of mountain ash and bends down to pick it up. He keeps his arm with the gun trained on Gerard and notices the dense weight of the bag.

“So what were you going to do with this anyway?”

“You don’t ask the fucking questions, I ask the questions. I am your superior officer and I order you to put the guns down _now_!” Gerard yells as though he’s exasperated with small children and Derek and Stiles watch him grapple with the lack of fucks they have to give between them, “And put on some damned clothes!” He yells again, gesturing to the cocks in from of him and their penises.

“See something you like, Gerry? Or is that jealousy I hear?” Stiles quips as he edges towards the doorway.

Gerard huffs, “Make fun all you want, boy, but even with those guns you’re at a clear disadvantage. In the bag, that mountain ash is ineffective, but as this barrier? It traps you inside and when ingested it’s toxic. I’m going to drain you dry of all those pretty little hormones and then it’s going to be the thing that kills you. And I’ll keep your little boytoy alive just long enough to watch you melt into a puddle of mountain mud and we’ll take him out the same way. So do yourself a fucking favor and put the guns down and give me the bag.”

Stiles doesn’t put down the gun. What he does instead is try to remember. He thinks… he remembers mountain ash. But he specifically remembers something much more important, something that his mother taught him. Yes, she taught him to hide…

But she also taught him what to do when he got caught.

He chances a quick glance at Derek and then looks back at Gerard.

“You want me to put my gun down, okay.” He says nodding, crouching slowly to place the gun on the ground, “And you want this back?” He asks, indicating to the bag. He nods again and as he rises he tosses the bag towards the door. Gerard’s eyes are on the bag as he reaches his hands out and he misses that Stiles still has his own gun in tow, aimed and pointed at the bag.

Stiles shoots the bag and Derek is about to duck since he assumes the ash will go everywhere, but instead it stays in a sphere creating a windstorm of mountain ash all around Gerard. Derek watches in shock as Stiles tosses his gun. Stiles knows his eyes are burning now as he uses everything he has to control the sphere with outstretched arms. Tamora screams.

“You said they wouldn’t be dangerous, Gerard! I didn’t sign up for more bear shit! This is more than- _fuck_!” She turns and runs and soon Stiles and Derek can hear the door opening as Tamora scuttles down the hall. Gerard is yelling and snarling in a tornado of mountain ash; Stiles leaves one flailing arm untouched and looks at Derek. Derek shakes his head at first, but Stiles insists.

“I… I can’t hold it for long! I know it’s a risk, but I promise I won’t let that shit touch you.”

“It’s not just that- _fuck_!” Derek yells as he moves towards Gerard. Stiles has the ash completely maintained but Derek is still wary. He steels himself and grabs Gerard’s hand exposing his wrist. He shakes his head and plunges his teeth into the embattled man causing him to scream out in anguish.

“That’s enough, Derek, get out of there!” Stiles yells as Derek runs to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth. When he comes back he see Gerard gesticulating wildly as foamy black puss and bile ooze their way from every orifice of the man’s body. Stiles watches, disgusted as the man in front of him is eaten by his own body and then regurgitated until he’s a disgusting pile of festering, smoldering goop on the floor.

Stiles feels two strong arms wrap themselves around him and both men stand silent and still.

“What are you thinking?” Derek asks, in his own way of making sure Stiles is okay. He’s had to take a couple of shots before, but he’s never actually killed someone. Even though this was deserved and necessary, Stiles still felt a sting when he exhaled.

“I’m hoping this place has a lot of extra baking soda.” Derek squeezes Stiles, seeming to understand the need for the young man to quip. Derek tries another tactic.

“How did you do that? Where did you learn to do that, I’ve never seen it before.” He asks into Stiles’ neck, his soft breath grounding and comforting Stiles.

“I… it’s something my mom… hey, what did you mean when you said ‘ _it’s not that_ ’ to biting Gerard? When I thought you were worried about the mountain ash.” Derek sighs, running his hands up and down Stiles’ sides. Stiles can feel the warmth from it even though he can’t turn his eyes from the slop that was Gerard Argent.

“Born wolves are dying out and giving the bite is a gift, Stiles. Not to be used as a weapon.” Stiles gapes, but Derek squeezes him, letting him know it’s okay, “If there are exceptions to be had, then I think today counts. And it wasn’t like you knew, I'd like to think if you’d known-”

“I wouldn’t have done it, Derek! Oh my god I’m so sorry, there just wasn’t enough time.”

“I understand, which is why I did it. But that’s not a normal thing. Since the ban went nationwide for weres, we’re constantly being assassinated. My family was one of the largest on this coast that had weres both bitten and born coalescing peacefully with humans.

“Tamora was mayor, remember? You may have been in school, but know it was short lived and a disaster. She was vehemently anti-were and while everyone was scared of the laws, more and more people were starting to become tolerant.”

Stiles nodded, remembering his dad telling him stories of how he used to have hope for coming out of hiding, but now with Tamora in office everything seemed to go back to the middle ages. People who’d been in hiding about their fear of the supernatural were now emboldened to not only speak out against supernaturals, but also take action.

“My family was killed in a fire years ago meant to eradicate weres, Stiles, and we’ve been living in fear ever since.”

Stiles remembers the fire, remembers Cora leaving with a family and coming back only with Lydia. He knows why he accepted the gaps in his memory, but it makes him sad he couldn’t be there for them.

“Peter became mayor and he was effective at stalling the change, though it may have been too late. The night of the fundraiser was just everything he couldn’t take at once. Gerard drugged him with something, I’m sure of it. In fact, Marin made me Lieutenant because I was supposed to be working closer with him to find out some secrets, but then Scott’s wife got sick making it so I could never get off patrol. Gerard has long assumed Scott’s got a dormant supernatural gene and being away from his mate while she’s pregnant is causing stress in the baby. When Scott is there Allison is fine.”

“Gerard must hate having a werewolf relative.” Stiles supplies, still trying to understand what was going on.

“You know how truly bigoted people are. He hates it for everyone but himself. He’d even fancied building himself an army. Supernaturals killing other supernaturals and taking control.’

“That’s fucked up.”

“That was Gerard. I think that’s why he really wanted the serum. He wanted to try and kill the gene, but didn’t get it doesn’t work like that.”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold the fuck up!” Stiles says, remembering something from the day of the fundraiser. “Ok, first, go back to Peter, because I was in town for that. I saw that. What the fuck happened?”

“All of the people he killed that night were involved in the fire that killed my family. Including Gerard’s daughter Kate.”

“Who is she exactly?”

“She’s a story for another night and a 3 bottle minimum.”

“Like, we have to share three bottles before you tell it?”

Derek nods, “Minimum. In the same night, and each. Three bottles each.” He doesn’t say anything else so Stiles continues.

“But Gerard drugged him knowing he’d go berserk, right? So… did he sacrifice… his own, oh my god, Derek!”

Shrugging, Derek turns Stiles in his arms. “Feeling bad for her is not something I can do very often, but every now and again I think about that. No matter how bad it eventually got with Peter, it wasn’t _that_.”

“So Peter was your alpha?”

“Yes, well, for our pack. He’s my uncle, we weren’t mates.”

“Not like you and me?” Stiles says with hopeful eyebrows that Derek lowers cutely with his fingers.

“TBD, Stiles, focus.”

Stiles huffs, “fine! So how did you become alpha?”

“In a born family, it can be passed to the closest next of kin. Before they took him to Eichen House he transferred it to me. I… I told him I was Laura. It was bad.”

“I’m sorry, Bear.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh it’s already happening, Lieu boo!” Derek groans, but won’t let go of Stiles, just bites him with human teeth on his neck.

“Can we talk about that? About when I can-”

“Stiles there’s a dead man in a pile of ooze on the floor and we’re naked making lovey eyes at each other. We gotta call your dad.”

Stiles finally takes in the situation and goes to find them some clothes as Derek goes upfront to see if Gerard brought anything with him they could use. Thankfully his pack was still intact and there was a phone along with codes for the doors.

Derek calls the Sheriff while Stiles goes through and tries to pack up as much of the fresh food and toiletries as he can. While they wait for the calvary, Stiles and Derek sit in the main room, still perplexed about the situation.

“How long were they going to keep us down here, you think? And why all this equipment?” Stiles asks, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder. The adrenaline has worn off and the activities of the last few days catch up with Stiles. Derek thankfully shows him a pretty nifty were trick of being able to siphon some of the pain. It leaves Stiles a little loopy, but he can manage.

“She said something about six months. Does that mean anything to you?” Derek asks. Stiles shakes his head and then leans up and kisses Derek on the jaw.

“Stiles…. I… I thought we were going to wait.”

“Wait until what?” Stiles asks innocently leaving little love bites up to Derek’s cheek.

“Until we could talk,” Derek says in almost a whisper.

“We’re talking.” Stiles adds, running his tongue along the vein in Derek’s neck, relishing as the small purr it causes.

“I don’t want to talk.” Derek leans his mouth down, slotting it with Stiles’ before running his tongue along the seam, asking for entrance. Of course Stiles allows it, after all, it’s Derek’s home too.


	5. Chapter 5

“So, let’s just recap the last few weeks.”

The sheriff is sitting in his rightful place in his office which is being gutted of the decorative annoyances of its previous owner. He pours three glasses of whiskey, hands Derek one and keeps the other two for himself until Stiles glares him down.

“You boys get kidnapped right as Stiles’ heat starts and you stayed down here for three days… knitting and crocheting is what I’m going to assume-”

“Dad, stop!” Stiles says, refusing to let his dad get the best of him in front of his new fucking boyfriend. Or his mate? Whatever, he’d figure it out.

“Then you call me and I come and clean up a pile of goo that was so gross I had to use vintage Coca Cola to clean it up.”

“That’s the stuff that had actual coke in it, am I right?” Stiles quips causing his dad to groan and Derek to shake his head fondly.

“You sure you want in on this, son? You still have time to back out.” The sheriff passes to Derek. They both know he’s bluffing as he’s already taken to calling Derek ‘son’ and is thrilled to see Stiles so happy with someone.

“Yes sir, I’m sure I want in on this.” Derek reaches over and grabs Stiles’ hand. It’s sappy and Stiles hates sappy, but lately he’s been letting a lot of the sentimentality fly. He cried the other day at an insurance commercial so he’s not sure what’s happening, he just knows he doesn’t mind it.

Since their time in the bunker, Derek and Stiles have been busy as hell. Peter was released from Eichen House into Derek’s care and all of the Argents were released from their positions. Morrell acted as interim Sheriff (with Derek as interim Captain) until Sheriff Stilinski was nominated and confirmed in an emergency election.

Derek was right about Scott’s hidden supernatural status and the effect it was having on Allison and their fetus. They were able to find a way to synthesize Stiles’ hormones specifically to help. Stiles didn’t understand a lot of the medical mumbo jumbo, but he was happy to help and the procedure was quick and easy.

They sat in the sheriff’s office now to talk about their future and Derek’s permanent promotion to Captain. It turns out that the city council was so impressed by Morrell’s handling of the situation, and after an extremely favorable straw poll, they decided to put Morrell and her partner Aurelia Braeden up for Mayor and Vice Mayor respectively. They were campaigning now and seemed to be a shoe-in to govern a new society where even tolerance was tolerated.

Cora had taken leave to help with Peter and would be returning that same day along with Lydia who was brought on to the force in an official capacity as their inhouse medium.

“Although how you completely missed us being kidnapped, I’ll never know.” Stiles says cheekily as Lydia walks into the room and perches herself on the arm of Stiles’ chair. She flicks him in the nose.

“Were you dead?”

“No- but Gerard was! Why didn’t you predict he was going to die?”

Lydia just shrugs, “maybe it’s because I fantasized about it so much.” Everyone in the room nods knowingly and takes a drink of the whiskey. Lydia grabs Stiles’ glass and finishes it off.

“Did they ever find Tamora?” She asks. The Sheriff shakes his head.

“Nope, she’s in the wind. She hightailed it out of the city limits and no one has heard from her since. I hope she was mauled by a bear.”

“What was up with that damned bear? Did you leave something out while I was gone?” Stiles wonders, thinking about Tamora’s campaign promises to rid Beacon Hills of all the bears. Derek and Sheriff share a look and Stiles points between them.

“Nope! I don’t like this. No nonverbal alpha communication! Tell me what’s going on!”

“It wasn’t a bear son, it was a beast. _La bete_ to be exact. We were able to put it down, but she was pretty pissed about the coverup.”

“So she’s scared of all supernaturals just because of one… ' _bear'_?”

Lydia snorts, “Stiles, you used magic to create a twister and turned Gerard into a goth version of the wicked witch.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t lie!”

“You just withheld that you’ve been practicing your magic for years?” Derek says accusatorily, but with a grin on his face.

“I had to keep myself a secret, what if she thought I was a bear?”

They talk more and Stiles can’t help but tune out and just take in the scene around him. His alpha dad was the new sheriff, his former Captain was going to be Mayor (the first druid mayor, though Stiles still was having trouble pinpointing what that meant). He was banging the current Captain who was a werewolf, and his best friend and forever queen was in the position she’d always wanted, only now with the recognition she deserved.

Hell, the only thing left was for one of his female friends to come in and announce she was pr-

“Hey dorks!” Cora says happily as she walks in the office. She gives Derek a small hug, gives Sheriff a high-five, and kisses Lydia sweetly while flipping Stiles the bird. It always makes Stiles laugh.

“Hey, Cordelia-” Sheriff starts, causing everyone in the room to gawp, including Lydia. The Sheriff is the only person in existence who has been able to call her that and get away with it. The Sheriff doesn’t seem to notice the honor. “We still need someone to tear down this wallpaper and burn it, I thought you might enjoy that.”

Cora nods, “yeah, sounds like a blast. I’ll get on that this afternoon.”

“Have Stiles help you, you’ll help her, won’t you, Son?” Stiles nods, excited to ransack the office, but Cora shakes her head.

“Nah, I’ll bring Derek.”

Stiles tries to ignore the instant hurt that nearly has his eyes watering -shit he’s been sensitive lately- and flails out his hands.

“What? Why can’t I help?” Stiles readies himself for a fight and can’t understand when Cora rolls her eyes and looks at him like he’s a moron. It’s her usual look, but it’s especially biting this time.

“Stiles you can’t burn wallpaper with me. The fumes might hurt the baby.” She gestures to his stomach like it explains anything at all. Shock doesn’t even have time to settle in the room as everyone looks at each other quizzically and then at Stiles who sure as hell doesn’t have any answers. He points back at Cora.

“Uh… _what_?!”

“You’re pregnant, Stiles.” She says again with no further exposition. Stiles glares.

“Explain yourself, Cora! Because last I checked I’m a male-”

“Omega, you twit! Omega males can get pregnant. Derek, you didn’t tell him?”

Derek’s eyes go wide and his hands go up in defense. “I thought that was a myth and how the hell am I supposed to know that my _male_ lover-”

“Love you too, Captain Ameriboo!”

“-is pregnant!?”

Cora, not letting the moment pass, balls up a piece of paper and throws it at Stiles’ head. “His heartbeat, Derek, you can hear it coming from him, all fast and erratic.”

Derek tries to tune in, “Stiles’ heart always beats fast.”

“Well yeah, but there aren’t several of them. He only has one heart, Derek!”

“Everyone shut up so we can listen!” The Sheriff demands, motioning to Lydia to close the door. He does and everyone is quiet. Stiles knows that weres and alphas have advanced hearing so he just sits still and tries to think steady heart beating thoughts.

“There’s Lydia, Sheriff, mine and Cora’s..” Derek says, eliminating the additional heart sounds, “there’s Stiles’ and… oh my god. Holy _shit_!”

“Derek, what? What do you hear?” Stiles hisses through is jaw, trying everything not to move.

“Sounds like we might have a couple of my grandbabies in there.” Sheriff says, trying and failing to hide his glee as he watches Stiles process the information.

“Fuck, babe, six months!” Derek says suddenly, referencing something Tamora said about them being in the bunker for six months. Shit, that’s why all the OBGYN equipment was down there?

“They knew I could get… that I would have a- oh my god, Derek, we were in _actual_ trouble-”

“ _Ours,_ Stiles. You’re carrying _our_ baby.” Derek stands up, completely giving no fucks about anything else in that moment and and walks over to where Stiles is still frozen, sitting and kisses him sweetly. Just like that, the fear bleeds from Stiles’ and he allows himself to be gathered in the loving secure arms of his alpha.

Sure, it’s been a whirlwind romance and he's still got... just so many questions. But he's got a family to discover the answers with and it’s going to be one hell of a story to tell their baby… shit… _babies_.

 

Stiles wouldn't have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading and thanks to smoochfest and to my awesome prompt giver! Be sure to leave kudos and comments and check out the other entries!
> 
>  
> 
> (Fest Mod Note: this work was created for the 2018 Sterek Smooch Fest. Please follow the fest on [LJ](https://sterek-smooch.livejournal.com/) and [TUMBLR](https://sterek-smooch.tumblr.com/) to see the rest of the fabulous creations! Thank you!)


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